Crystal Children - The Nightblades Roleplay Blog

Full Moon

2010-01-13T00:52:00.000-05:00

Full moon
"What kind of Goddess allows the sort of thing?" Lyall spat, the ground inside his moghouse moistened by his outrage. "Everything Gui'cul was right, wasn't it?"

He had been drinking, the room stank of it. Loo, full belly, was lying in the bed, but Lyall couldn't keep his voice down.

"It was true, wasn't it? The Gods have abandoned all of us, haven't they? They've left us to our own devices..." Tears welled up in Lyall's eyes. "There's nothing left for us, is there? There's only what we make, there's only right now, right here..." The ground was wet by his tears, by his sorrow.

"There is nothing left, except hatred for the powers that left us, is that right...? There's only what the twisted Kuluu taught is, wresting power from the powers that Were, things that left us to die on our own, guideless!

"What about Alberic?! Why didn't Bahamut show him what lay in wait for him? Nothing left except sorrow... Nothing except regret, and solitude..."

Lyall's outrage manifested in a sphere, floating before his fireplace, white hot and more virulent than a newly-active volcano.

"There's nothing else, is there? Protecting ourselves from the void, living in spite of your Grand Design? I reject it all, and I bring life into the Lie. I hate you, I hate you the most of all things..." Lyall wept into his floor, knees bowed before the fireplace, hands limp and impotent. There was nothing else, nothing except living in spite of "Gods", in spite of the things that once granted life. Lyall felt abandoned by higher power, and nothing left except his love for his wife and wanting to keep his and his own as far from the void that is death as far as possible. There is no Heaven, no Goddess; They have long abandoned common Man and his wife. There is no Devout, no reason to believe. There is only surviving, and hating.

Life is hated, life is defiance, and Lyall had more than enough to survive, to defy. There was only fighting within him, only hatred, only spite. The cryptonberry had seen it, and the world would feel it. There was only surviving to spit in the eyes of the creator, only being more than the "Goddess" had ever seen possible.

Nemo (AoA)

2009-10-21T21:35:00.002-04:00

When I sleep, I see things with my heart that can't be seen with eyes alone.

It's always been there with me--but it happens most when I am "one." Lately, because I haven't seen Ally in ages, it happens a lot, and I sleep all the time. I think it worries Mr. Beard. He went out and I laid down to sleep, and when I woke up he was back, but he was upset because he had been gone a long time and I slept the whole while. But I thought he would be happy because I don't need to eat when I'm sleeping so much--food is expensive in this country.

When I'm sleeping, I'm never alone--Al-chan is there with me. I call him Al-chan because he's funny. He and I look at the same things, and he usually explains what they mean. The things we see are those things that you can't see with your eyes; Al-chan says we see them with our heart, and it's our brains that make them appear in images so that we can understand them and interpret them.

Like, over and over I see five stars. Sometimes they're up in the sky, and they're like little pinpoints of light up against a big black sky. Sometimes they're hidden inside flowerbuds, and then the flowers bloom and the stars float out. Sometimes they're inside fruit hanging off a tree, and someone comes by and takes one of the fruits and eats it; then I can see a star in their belly, even though they don't seem aware of the light.

Al-chan is sometimes a meanie and doesn't explain things. He says they're too important. "What do YOU think it means, Ceecee?" he asks infuriatingly.

"I dunno, it's hard!" I complain.

"Try to think about it," he urges.

I consider it a while. "Well, the five stars are like--five people who have special power. That's what that light is."

He nods happily. "That's right. Five people have special powers that are preventing the Black Samurai from obtaining his goal."

"But what is that goal?"

"Why don't we think on it?"

We drift through dreams together again, he and I. I concentrate hard on the Black Samurai. I have to find him and find out what he's doing so I can protect everyone--Ally, Papa, Mr. Facebeard, everyone. Then, the Black Samurai appears. I dunno what he looks like outside of dreams, but in my dreams he has a dark aspect and is surrounded by shadows so that I can't make out his face well. Sometimes, I dream of him as an angel with white wings; then something goes wrong, and he plummets from Paradise, and his feathers turn black and peel off as he falls down.

"Ooh, ooh, I know what this one means, Al-chan!" I say excitedly. "He has an illness and he's dying. That's why he went all black."

Al-chan smiles at me. "Very good, Ceecee! And look at his face."

"He doesn't look angry or scared... he looks sad. I don't think he's trying to stop himself from falling at all...." I think on it a bit. "So, he wants to die?"

Al-chan nods. "It's also loneliness that made him sick."

One of the other things I dream about that man is him playing a game. I can't see who he's playing against but I can feel that his opponent hates him a lot. I can see two boys standing behind the players. Onii-chan is behind the Black Samurai, watching the board, and a blond-haired boy is behind the other person. This dream makes me feel scared. I think if one of the players falls, then person standing behind has to sit and play, and I can feel that only the person who wins will be alive at the end.

"But why, Al-chan? If he doesn't want to live, why is he playing to win...?"

"Because sometimes we want to win more than anything else. Some people love winning more than living."

The dream around us changes again. A huge gnole is bounding through a thick forest, chasing something ahead--it's a white hare that glows inside. He catches the bunny but stands over it protectively, growling at the dark forest all around. But then the hare hides in his tummy, and now the gnole is shining all white.

"What about this one, Ceecee?" Al-chan asks.

"Well.... the gnole feels kind of like Papa...." I squirm uncomfortably. "I don't like this dream."

"Why not?"

"Because Papa might be sad... I don't like it when he's sad."

"Don't worry, Ceecee," Al-chan reassures me. "Your Papa will be okay." He pauses. "You have a choice to make soon though, don't you?"

It feels like I turn around, and I see Ally and Mr. Facebeard standing side-by-side there, looking at me. They don't seem to see each other. I feel cold all over, especially in my tummy. "Yes," I whisper. "I have to choose which one, don't I?"

Al-chan puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to be able to see you anymore, Ceecee," he says softly, and I can see his hand is glowing.

"I'm gonna miss you, Al-chan," I say really softly, but he was already gone.

I'm scared to wake up. I wanna dream forever. They'll end up so sad, won't they--they might even hate me. What do I do....?

I don't want to choose.

Snowfall

2009-10-12T12:15:00.002-04:00

((*blows dust off the blog*))

-----

If you knew you only had one night to live in this world.... how would you spend it?

With whom would you die?

...

I would die alone.

-----

Snow whipped down from the sky, but he didn't feel it, despite being stripped to the waist and kneeling on the frozen ground. Gui'cul, a twisted golden-skinned Cryptonberry, laughed in his crude and dusty voice, and dug his clawed hand into Alberic's back.

"Does it hurt, child of Altana?" he hissed into Alberic's pointed ear, the Elvaan's sagging head putting him at eye-level with the deformed creature. Gui'cul twisted his claws into the thick black grooves of the intricate scars that marred Alberic's back, and Alberic gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms trembling as they struggled to hold him upright. Blood and sticky white pus dripped down from the Cryptonberry's claws.

"Where are the gods, child of Altana? They are silent."

Lyall, also shirtless under the blizzard, surged forward, but even he did not dare lay a hand on the Cryptonberry. After all--they were here on the Glacier outside of dark Pso'Xja for his guidance. "Leave him alone!" Lyall shouted. "This isn't teaching him anything--it's just sadism!"

Gui'cul laughed again, the sound like a snake's belly slithering across cermet. "Is it, gnole-whelp?"

The Cryptonberry drifted away, impervious to the snow, his long greeny-gold robes trailing in the snow, and he raised his beaked maw to the steel-gray sky overhead. "You two children came to me, came to the remnants of a dying race, to learn dark secrets. You wished to reach for that primal power that enabled us to survive for ten thousand years. What was that power?"

Alberic lifted his head and spoke from between gritted teeth, his eyes grim. "Hate."

"That's right," Gui'cul hissed, looking over his shoulder at the pair. "The gods have abandoned Kuluu and Zilart alike. Lord Diabolos did not save anyone--and Lord Bahamut laughs at your agony, child of Altana." He whirled then, and his body arced with lightning as he channeled a powerful blast into Alberic's body; the Elvaan fell, howling and writhing, and Lyall again surged forward, but the torment was over as soon as it began.

"And the gods did nothing!" Gui'cul screeched triumphantly. "Let go of your vanity and useless pride--before the power that is hatred, we are all as nothing! We are mere conduits for the greatest power that all Vana'diel can produce--not cheap conjurers tricks, not abasement before uncaring gods, but the power that is hatred made by our will into arcane force!"

Alberic looked up, and tendrils of steam rose from his hands, resting against the snow-studded ground. Lyall, gripping his friend's shoulders, also looked over at Gui'cul, and rage emanated from him as if it was a physical force. Gui'cul smiled, the expression terrifying on his ancient face.

"You hate. This is good."

-----

I can't bear to see you with her. When I look at your happy faces, I feel empty inside. It makes me hate you both, even though you've been nothing but kind to me.

It's because I stole something like that for myself, and then I let it go before it could be taken away.

It's easier to just hate everything. It's easier to hate myself than try to feel anything else.

-----

As part of their training, Gui'cul made them give up what they had brought with them to Pso'Xja. Alberic piled what seemed like endless harps and flutes onto a stack of kindling, then his ornate silken cannions and seraweels, lush fabrics that he had earned for bardic performances from all over Vana'diel. Lyall, perhaps thankfully, had brought with him little, but had to reluctantly surrender a curved scimitar from the Empire. Together, the two reached out together to black magic to set the bonfire alight. Lyall's face was troubled as he watched the pile ignite; Alberic's was indifferent, even cold.

He took to wearing hooded cloaks with long sleeves and thick gloves, hiding every bit of his body as if to wrap himself, mummy-like, away from the entire world. Days would go by without the pair encountering anyone save Gui'cul, though Loo often made the perilous journey out to Pso'Xja to visit. Whenever she would do so, Alberic would retreat and allow the pair their time alone, and he would say little to anyone for some time afterward.

If time passed outside of that place, it seemed to do so without Alberic's involvement. Past, present, and future no longer mattered; the future had ceased to capture his attention. He specialized in ice and thunder magic, and Gui'cul set them to attacking his fellow Cryptonberries, blasting apart Summoner's elementals as he cackled at their side. "Summoners," he would say darkly, "are all weak. They pray impotently to the gods, and see with what they are rewarded--soulless shades by their sides that are so easily removed, and no real power among them! Anger, rage, hatred, passion, these alone are the source of true magic, not begging to higher beings!"

Lyall was more skilled at fire magic, and many nights it was only his skill at producing flame that gave them a warm place to sleep. Despite his seeming impatience with the process and his open distrust of Gui'cul, Lyall never wavered or left Alberic's side, and worked away at learning black magic just as diligently as the Elvaan. Together, they learned how to channel the tumultuous magics, how to twist time and space, how to fling themselves into the nether and back out again, and how to stand on the precipice of madness and wield what power lies there.

-----

I don't love you.

He took everything from me. I allowed him to take everything from me. I made him take everything from me.

I don't want to see the future anymore. I don't want to feel anything anymore, or think, just act.
I want to be able to fight, even if I don't know what for. I want to fight for a future where I die alone, because if I can't be with you then I don't want to be with anybody.

Meetings (AoA)

2009-04-01T10:59:00.002-04:00

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came a voice from below Ranulfe's bunk, followed by a few arcane words and a soft whooshing sound. "You should warrrn people when you're going to do that!"

A wild haired Mithra appeared beside the bunk, wiping her face with one paw and holding a flaming dagger with the other.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rrrip you a new...." The Mithra's words trailed off as she saw the Hume's face. Moving the dagger in closer she asked "What's your name, kid?"

Ranulfe blinked once or twice groggily, his expression shocked and still half asleep.

"I didn't... What're you...? My name's..." He gave pause, not sure if he should be revealing his identity. "My name's Warren. I'm sorry if I, uh, got you."

"Warrrren, huh?" The Mithra replied, looking directly into Ranulfe's eyes. "Sure, whatever." She shook her head and tossed a messy book on the bunk. "Fix it or rrreplace it. Your choice."

The Mithra turned to leave, "Next time, trrry to aim for this." She nudged the bucket hanging off the side of Ranulfe's bunk and walked away, the flames going out and leaving Ranulfe again in darkness.

Pursuit (AoA)

2009-03-24T03:01:00.002-04:00

Just like that his feet were back on the streets of the Empire, unceremoniously exited from the palace and from before the Empress. Naturally, there was pomp and a way of things; The begging of leave, the being guided away from everything, informed of this and that. Ranulfe wasn't really listening to any of it. He had greater things on his mind.

Standing amidst the lane of the Grand Palace Seikatsu, Kaede and Ranulfe stood.

"What should we do?" Seikatsu asked quietly. She was thrust into this rather suddenly.

"Mistress Kaede," Ranulfe intruded, partially stepping over Seikatsu's words. "I understand the instructions set before me but I think I can do a better job of searching should I strike out on my own."

The master ninja simply looked at him with a hard expression.

"You wish to disobey me? Why such insolence, Ranulfe? Have I been unkind? Unjust? Do you think I am wrong in my decision?"

"It is not that, Mistress, but merely that I think I would have more luck in finding the black samurai were I alone. We have-" He almost said that they had been sharing correspondence since his arrival in Norg, but something caused him to chomp back on his tongue. "We have too many among us, even as only three. By myself I pose no threat to him, and you, my lady, are of no small renown. I think he would be more inclined to meet with me."

"You speak as if you expect him to be nearby, Ranulfe. Is there something you are withholding?"

"Not at all, mistress. I just think this is a better way."

Kaede stared at him, seemed to probe him. "You have learned only a portion of what I can teach you, Ranulfe. I do not think, should you leave my side today, you will ever finish your lessons with me. Are you truly wishing to part from me, from my resources in Norg? Do you think this is best?"

Ranulfe didn't pause at her questions. "My lady, if I was only staying around for the resources and reputation, then I was lost from before I ever arrived in your city."

Kaede smiled.

***
Ranulfe took his time in exiting Aht Urghan. There was a boat regularly circling between their own dock and one in Mhaura. He was hoping that Kre'oss would be waiting or watching somewhere, that he would be seen alone and pulled aside, told of the plan, let in to the scheme. Kre'oss was labeled a criminal by the Empire, however, so there was no reason to expect him to stick around. In the short time Ranulfe had known the man, he seemed to be on the Right side. The Winning side. Kre'oss, to Ranulfe's mind, was the sort of person he had wanted to grow up to become. Strong. Capable. Willing to do the right thing no matter what, the sort of person who escaped the strong arm of the "law" and did the right thing no matter what.

Ranulfe dozed on the ship. He dreamt of darkness, rainclouds. He saw the Black Samurai. He was other people. He saw his father and sisters, very far away. They looked frightened, scared. Hurt. He saw Esh'nir. He was beside him. The Black Samurai drew his weapon in opposition, and-

Ranulfe awoke with a start. The boat lurched, the waves battered the side of the wooden vessel, and leaning out of his bunk the boy was seasick.

The King of Corsairs Tournament, part 2 (AoA)

2009-03-16T06:20:00.002-04:00

Ranulfe found the first three days of the King of Corsairs Tournament to be highly enjoyable simply from a spectacle point of view. He and Kaede watched from a nearby pavilion as representatives of the Shadow Council, as all chaos seemed to break loose on the quay, all narrated with excited vim by Naja Salaheem, the president of the mercenary company facilitating the tournament. "Ohh, there goes another applicant!" she'd crow as some poor sucker took the full force of an exploding bomb behind his back and toppled off of the floating platforms into the ocean. "Looks like he couldn't handle the pressure of BCG excitement! Or was he just not quick-witted enough?!"

The first round, "Ultra Explosive BCG Elimination Excitement," turned out to be a rousing multi-player game of good old "Beetle, Crab, Ghost," with immense bombs looming behind each participant that blew up on the loser. Ranulfe quickly lost count of how many burnt and unconscious hopefuls got carted off by the mercenary Galkas, piled up in some nearby infirmary. He began to sincerely hope that the healers in this country could manage it all. Although this round took nearly all day, it did do a fine job of whittling down the contestants by nearly two-thirds.

"Look, Garath made it through, Master!" Ranulfe said excitedly to Kaede, pointing out Garath among the contestants left standing at the end of the day.

Kaede glanced over at him, smiling slightly. "And do you want Lord Garath to become King of the Corsairs, Ranulfe?"

He was a bit taken aback by the question, and paused, trying to consider the question not just from his 0wn perspective, but that as a student of Master Kaede's, a trainee in the art of ninjutsu. "He's not incapable," he said finally. "He seems to understand politics, he's quick-witted and glib, and he has a lot of determination and ambition. There's worse choices. And he seems willing to work with the Council."

Kaede's eyes turned back to the exhausted but triumphant group of competitors, Garath in their midst, weaving a bit on his feet. "You're not wrong. But now look at him as you might an enemy."

Ranulfe raised his eyebrows, stifling a moment of surprise, then looked over at Garath again, trying to see him with fresh eyes. The man was in his mid to upper twenties, with chin-length chestnut brown hair that curled at his chin and at the nape of his neck. He was garbed as a Corsair in the iconic leathers and bore their arms. Ranulfe didn't see him as particularly handsome; in fact, there was something almost homely about him at first glance, with an overly strong nose and small, squinty eyes already well-lined at the corners, and his mouth was broad and animated. Although he seemed tired, the way he weaved on his feet was practiced, combining exhaustion with sea legs, and the loose arms at his side suggested he was relaxed but also poised to snap the wide-barreled hexagun on his hip out of its holster at any moment. Ranulfe thought of Garath's complete confidence that he would win the tournament, contrasted with his flirtatious demeanor and surprising tenderness toward the Mithran lady that had raised him.

"He's dangerous," Ranulfe said finally. "I wouldn't entirely trust him."

Kaede's half-smile widened slowly. "Good," she said softly. "Learn to look at everyone that way. See with unblemished eyes their strengths and weaknesses, and be prepared to counter their blow should it ever come for your back."

Ranulfe shifted slightly, his elbows ducking back, rolling his shoulderblades. "You're saying not to trust anyone....?"

"Not necessarily. Just to never let your guard down. Death can come from the least expected of places."

The second day of the tournament dawned clear and slightly chilly. Ranulfe had never seen this particular "game of chance" before--and he was beginning to understand just how loose a term that could be. The hundred-odd competitors were paired off with a wide turtle-shell shield and a thick wooden Great Katana in between them. Then at the firing of Naja's gun, each pair flipped a coin, with the winner taking the weapon and the loser grabbing the shield. Then, using only those two weapons, the two had to fight until one fell off the platforms into the water. At least, such was the idea. Ranulfe noted quite a bit of surreptitious cheating, especially from the magic-users amongst the competitors, who often would hide under the shield and set their adversaries' shoes on fire. Garath got the shield, deflecting a shot at his head with the shield before kicking his opponent, a gangly Elvaan, in between the legs and body-checking him into the ocean.

Needless to say, that round didn't last long, and before noon they were on to the third round. Tables were brought onto the floating piers, each piled high with pies. "I hope everyone is hungry, because this challenge will test your endurance, stamina, persistence, bravery, and palate!" Naja called. "The test is--to find the single red bean hidden somewhere within the pies, while completely consuming each one, no purging allowed!"

Garath shot a dirty look from his position over to the platform where the Viceroy that designed this test, an immense Galka, rested. The Viceroy shrugged sheepishly in reply.

"Just pies?" Ranulfe muttered disgustedly, his stomach rumbling hungrily. "That doesn't seem too dangerous or exciting."

Kaede, however, was already chortling and rubbing her hands.

At the sound of the gun, the contestants dug in. It was pretty quickly apparent that the non-bean-containing pies weren't rolanberry or melon. Some were filled with living, wriggling worms, some with a mysterious green goo that Ranulfe devoutly hoped wasn't from slimes, some extremely rich custard, and other various inedibles. When a living baby scorpion popped out of one and stung a competitor in the nose, Ranulfe began to be glad that he hadn't had lunch yet, after all.

Garath, for his part, steadily ate through a badly burnt pie filled with raw pumpkin, seeds and all, then located the bean after the first bite of his second. "Lucky bastard," Kaede muttered, not entirely displeased.

More contestants managed to survive that challenge than expected, so the fourth challenge was ushered forward mid-afternoon without delay. Each competitor was violently spun around while blindfolded, then asked a series of bizarre questions. Ranulfe was stunned by how random they seemed to be--one competitor was asked to recite the alphabet backwards while skipping every third letter; one was asked the names of all seven Viceroys' ships in the order that they sailed into harbor; a third was asked to recite the emperors of the current dynasty from C.E. 500 on. If the competitor took too long to answer or got too many questions wrong, they were unceremoniously heaved over the side of the platform into the water. Garath's question was to listen to a certain amount of gil being dropped onto the quay and then list how much it was, and in what coin amounts. He was one of the few, however, to get his first question completely right and pass onto the next stage. Given that the previous challenge had been one involving food, the nausea of the spinning combined with the full stomach resulted in a few messy accidents that only compounded the difficulty of the task.

It was during this task that Ranulfe and Kaede were joined on the platform by Seikatsu. Ranulfe leapt up to offer her his seat, but she smiled and shook her head, taking the one next to him. "What brings you up here?" Kaede asked mildly.

"Each of the Viceroys that are actually participating has a proxy to speak for them while they're busy," Seik replied in her soft voice. "Or in case something happens to them." She stared out anxiously at the quay, wringing her hands in her lap. Ranulfe watched her. She reminded him of the hazy memories of his mother--they would be about the same age, with similar-colored hair, although he remembered his mother's having been short and darker.

The fifth challenge unfolded under a twilight sky. "This one has to be the one Garath designed," Ranulfe predicted confidently to Kaede. "It even involves dice."

"No," Seik said unexpectedly. "His hasn't appeared yet."

Only ten contestants were left by this point. All seemed strong, though there were several that truly stood out; Garath with his charisma remained the only Corsair, most having been sunk by the pies. Naja set them in pairs around several large tables; on each table was a circle with a pair of dice, a single hexagun, a deck of cards, a Pyumomo doll, and a large Imperial gold piece that glinted under the lights. "The challenge is: using only what lies before you, place a hole in the center of the coin!" Naja instructed them.

Garath's partner was a Mithran pirate, though whether aligned with Norg or freelance it was difficult to say. "But it's so simple!" she cried when the signal to start sounded, and she grabbed for the gun possessively. "Give me the coin, Corrrrrsair!"

Garath had scooped up the dice. "Now now, miss, we don't want things to get unpleasant," he drawled. "We both know that gun is unloaded, so don't tell me you're planning on shooting me." He rolled the dice around his palm for a moment, then across each finger, a sly smile never budging from his face.

The Mithra's brow knitted into a firm scowl, then her eyes lowered to the cards. "How about we play for it?" she said.

"Certainly, madam," Garath said courteously.

"No trrrricks! We'll both draw from the top, and high card gets the coin."

"Alright."

The Mithra took a card, and so did Garath. But he didn't look at the card, instead fitting it carefully in between his fingers and digging the edge into his palm. She bristled. "What are you doing?!"

"What if these cards are marked? The dice were weighted, after all--" He tossed the dice onto the table, and one cracked open at the impact, pieces scattering across the table. "--and the coin, I'm sure, is double-sided."

The Mithra's eyes darted to the coin, and in that instant Garath's hand snapped out, and he wrenched the gun away, snapping it open and slipping a single bullet into the gun. The Mithra yowled and grabbed for the coin, but Garath simply forced her arm up, the coin slipping from their grasp and flying into the air. Garath raised the hexagun and fired, the sound of the bullet striking the coin loud in the hushed dock.

"It was simple really," Garath told Kaede later as he massaged his stomach with a wince. "Everything on that table had some sort of purpose. The dice had a bullet hidden inside one of them--a small bronze bullet that could be easily hidden, but probably wouldn't kill fired from that old thing. One of the dice had a small crack in it--just small enough for a card to get forced inside so you could crack it open."

"And the doll?" Ranulfe asked curiously.

Garath chuckled. "I suspect it had either another coin or another bullet hidden inside of it somewhere, but I didn't think it'd help my reputation as a womanizer if I went feeling up the doll while chatting up that lady about the weather."

The crowds on the third day were even greater, since the last two challenges were guaranteed to occur that day, with the winner crowned at sundown. It was rumored the Empress herself was in attendance, although at a secret location to avoid the press of the crowds. With only three contestants left, a great deal of wagers were being taken, with sizeable amounts of Imperial currency changing hands under the watchful eyes of Salaheem's Sentinels. The odds were favoring Garath so far since he was the first to solve the dice puzzle, although an Elvaan man that had pulled a nail from the table to pound through the coin was a close second, and a Hume that had used the hammer of the gun's firing mechanism to puncture the coin was also showing strongly. The other groups had been unable to find another method of producing a hole in the coin and were disqualified.

A hush fell over the crowd as the three were led, blindfolded, onto three of the floating platforms. On each platform was erected a set of three doorways, one set of three doors for each of the contestants. Two of the doors led straight out into the water; one led to a plank leading up to one of the flagships, the location of the Final Challenge.

"The challenge is simple!" Naja announced to the crowd, her tail bristling with excitement. "Each contestant will choose a door--marked 1, 2, or 3. If the way is open to them, then they will be free to continue on. But if not.... they are eliminated! It's simple, isn't it? A one-in-three shot... a one-in-three chance for glory!"

The three contestants, positioned on the closed side of the doors, had their blindfolds removed. "Choose your door but do not open it!" Naja instructed each of them sternly.

The Elvaan hesitated, then pointed to the center door. "I pick--Door 2."

Garath pointed to the left door. "I choose Door 1."

The Hume raised his hand steadily and pointed without saying a word at the center door, his other hooked on the pommel of his weapon.

Naja stalked among them then. She suddenly paused by the Elvaan man's set of three doors and flung open Door 3. He flinched back as he saw the door open out onto empty water. "Still so certain of your chances, Dhalmel-boy?" Naja taunted him. "I'll give you this one chance--stick with the choice you've got, or switch to Door 1?"

The Elvaan's eyes darted, panicked, a cool breeze from the water blowing in from the open door. "Y... Y-yes, I'll switch to Door 1."

"Go ahead then," Naja told him with a smirk. "Take your destiny."

The Elvaan strode over to Door 1 and opened it quickly, stepping out--only to fall face-first into the water.

The crowd gasped and cheered, unsure of how to react. "Was it the right choice, Master?" Ranulfe murmured to Kaede. "I mean, it's only a one-in-three chance of it being right still, even if we know one of them is wrong."

Naja crossed over to the Hume's platform, this time opening Door 1 to reveal the water. He seemed unphased by it, simply tersely answering to Naja's jibes that he didn't want to switch, and when he opened the door he walked up the plank toward the Final Challenge. The crowd applauded him heartily, those that made wagers a little harder than most. Ranulfe leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the man--something about him seemed familiar. Then, when the man turned from the deck of the flagship back toward the crowd, Ranulfe stiffened, watching the wind toss the man's black hair, revealing the eyepatch. It was the one-eyed Samurai--the man that had saved him on the boat.

Now it was Garath's turn. "Surely it can't be the center door all three times...." Kaede whispered, gnawing on a knuckle uncharacteristically. Like the Samurai, Garath refused the switch, and when he reached out for the door, his head was back, his eyes closed. Almost like a man preparing himself for destiny, Ranulfe thought, watching Garath's tricorne topple back off of his head, the wind in his brown hair, the serene expression on his face.

But when the door opened, it was the Samurai on the other side of it.

Garath's eyes flashed open, and for a single moment, the two men faced each other. Then, the Samurai said something--Ranulfe couldn't hear what. Garath had only a moment to tense, then the Samurai drew his Great Katana in a single motion and struck at Garath with full force. Garath ducked, but not enough; blood flew, and the crowd surged to its feet, roaring like a breaking wave. "Treachery! Treachery!"

Garath was shooting at the Samurai, who leapt backward up onto the top of the doorways; Ranulfe started to the end of the platform, along with the mercenaries, but Kaede raised a hand. "Do not interfere!" she cried in a great voice.

"What?!" Ranulfe demanded, and Naja Salaheem looked as shocked as he. "Why?!"

Kaede's eyes pitilessly took in the two men fighting on the platform, and then she looked away. "Let them settle it," she ordered Naja. "We do not interfere. This was Garath's task."

"What!" Naja exclaimed, whirling. "But if it's to come to a fight--"

Seik, however, was ignoring all of them, running full-bore to the very edge of the quay. "Garath!!" she screamed, coming to a halt at the edge of the water separating the quay from the floating platforms. "Kre'oss!!! It is Kre'oss, isn't it?! Stop this!! Why are you attacking my son?!"

Garath whirled, noticing Seik for the first time, and it was the opening the Samurai needed. He wrapped a pale arm around Garath's wounded shoulder, blood staining the frosted steel of his Great Katana, and with his other arm opened a Warp scroll. A black and purple portal opened, and he hauled Garath bodily through it, his single empty black eye fixed on Seik as he and Garath vanished in thin air.

Chaos erupted on the quay, the crowd confused and the mercenaries unable to restore order. But almost as if they were expecting violence to erupt somehow, the Imperial guard swarmed in from the Citizen's Quarter, forcing the onlookers to disperse. Ranulfe, stunned still by the unexpected scene he'd witnessed, found himself face-to-face with three Immortals. "Come with us, Lady Kaede," their leader, masked by his keffiyeh, ordered them. "Bring your apprentice with you. Your presence has been ordered in the Imperial Palace."

The Palace? Things were happening too quickly for Ranulfe to digest. In mere moments it seemed, he and Kaede were kneeling before a heavily curtained dais in the Imperial Palace, along with Seik. A woman's genteel voice, only slightly accented with the lilt of the Near East, floated over to them from behind the curtain. "You have our permission to rise, Lady Kaede, Lady Seikatsu, Lady Kaede's apprentice."

They did so, uneasily, Ranulfe trying not to stare at the Immortals ringing the room. "Your Imperial Majesty--" Kaede began. "Surely you do not think we planned this unfortunate abduction."

"Surely you did not stop our trusted mercenaries from intervening in the act?" The Empress's voice was quite stern. "Was that man not one of your compatriots? We fail to understand your rationale. This unseemly disruption of the tournament we were overseeing and guaranteeing casts a deep shadow on our reputation, and we are displeased that you prevented our mercenaries from restoring order."

Kaede flinched, her usually calm facade straining under the Empress's censure. "It is not our way, your Majesty. Lord Garath was on the Council, representing Ephramad, but it was as a private citizen that he entered the tournament--"

"Lady Seikatsu, Lord Garath is your son, correct?"

Seik bowed her head deeply. "Not exactly, your Majesty, but I have raised him from boyhood and consider him as my own son...."

There was a pause. "We understand your feelings," the Empress said at length. "Lord Garath was conducting himself well in the tournament. That this tournament has been befouled, along with our reputation, by such a heinous kidnapping and such wanton violence is unseemly in our eyes. We must take immediate steps to rescue Lord Garath."

"We cannot intervene directly, Divine One," the Grand Vizier, in his customary position before the throne, reminded her.

"This we well understand, Grand Vizier. Lady Seikatsu, you seemed to recognize the perpetrator?"

"An old friend, your Majesty..." Seik couldn't quite keep the worry from her voice. "Although he was very different...."

"We may not be directly involved in the righting of this injustice, but we may impose this duty upon Lady Kaede for her failure to keep order on our territory." Kaede started to protest, but the Grand Vizier sternly stared her into silence. "This we command," the Empress said. "The Lady Kaede's apprentice and the Lady Seik will discover the location of this Samurai in black. The Lady Kaede will return to Norg and set the full resources of her people to this task as well. She will then rescue Lord Garath if possible, and if not, avenge him. The King of Corsairs Tournament will be postponed until these events have taken place, after which time we shall make suitable arrangements for it to be finished so that stable leadership might be found for Ephramad despite today's tragedy."

"So it is ordered," decreed the Grand Vizier. "Do you submit to these commands, Lady Kaede?"

Kaede bowed her head, gritting her teeth. "It seems I have no choice. Ranulfe--" She glanced at him. "You'll go with Seik and help her find this Samurai. Contact me when you've found him."

"It will be a dangerous journey alone," the Empress said. "We shall appoint one of our trusted mercenaries to join you on the road, to redeem the honor lost today by Salaheem's Sentinels."

Ranulfe was ushered out of the Palace along with Seik and Kaede, his head still spinning. All of a sudden, an important task had fallen to him, with a man's life in the balance. And best of all, he had no idea where to start looking--and neither did Seik, from the blank look in her eyes.

Field Report #3

2009-03-05T10:29:00.002-05:00

Colonel Faebhar Fhabrun
Currently on assignment in the Republic of Bastok

Please relay my gratitude to Her Magnificence for the Sutlac included with my most recent dispatch. A wonderful taste of home made all the sweeter knowing it is a gift form the Empress herself.

The dragon problem in the middle lands is even worse than the reports indicated. I have barely begun to explore the local countryside and have run in to one of the beasts only a few malms from the city gates. It was hiding in an abandoned mine system and had apparently been living there for several years undetected.

During the ensuing combat, the beast caused several weakened mine supports to give way. Some local civilians were close enough to be endangered by the cave in, so I had to retreat at that point to help keep them from harm.

I have not yet been able to verify whether the beast was killed by the cave in or merely trapped. The local militia will be investigating the incident, I will be on hand to make sure that the dragon is dead, and they understand the gravity of the situation. I will also obtain a copy of their report to forward along to your office.

Col. Fhabrun.

Out of the Depths

2009-03-02T15:44:00.003-05:00

The dragon roared, its snout slicked in the darkness with a black ichor, gleaming in the pitch black of the cave. The very walls shuddered with its bellow, Ceelia and Allmia looking ecstatic that they were able to cause such a beast to wail so painfully. The dragon took a glare down at the meal before him and swung a mighty limb across the ground, sweeping in an attempt to snatch up the mithra.

Ceelia took hold of her dear sister's waist and the two gracefully maneuvered out of the path, whirling with one another in a display of childish dance and mithran agility. Ceelia giggled playfully but the noise was lost amidst the dragon's frustrated cries.

"Hold this," Faebhar spoke to Lyall in a tone not asking. He thrust the lantern into the Bastokan's with one hand, the other already drawing the battleaxe he wore on his back. The light shone forward to illuminate the scene more clearly.

"Altana you guys run fa HOLY MOLA MOLA THERE'S A DRAGON IN HERE!" came the startled feminine voice from behind. Lyall shot a look over his shoulder and there was the new girl, the child, Umise, he thought her name was. She was hunched over, one hand on the wall and one on her knee, gasping.

The mithra were continuing their attacks, landing glancing blows against the thick hide of the beast. The wounds they inflicted were shallow, superficial but still drew blood. They may have only made the creature more agitated. Agitation gave way to pain, however, when the Aht Urghanian's weapon landed true against the beast's unoccupied leg, cleanly severing a toe.

The dragon thrashed wildly, less about combat and more in incredulous pain. The Palborough Mines were abandoned; It was possible this beast thrived on the fauna that lived inside and had never seen a person before, let alone be harmed. In its own way it was much a child, innocent, just a predator being confronted with a new creature.

The monster thrashed about and sent Faebhar retreating tactically, the mithra twins also backing away towards the entrance of the cave where Lyall stood with the new girl a few feet behind. The rotting supports that held the mine intact were battered, leaned into. The creature broke clean a few of them and the ceiling lurched precariously.

"We need to go," Faebhar said in that solider-tone, the sort of thing that caused trained military and militia to simply follow orders. Lyall met his gaaze evenly and nodded, taking his daughters by the hands.

"Girls, we're leaving." Both he and Faebhar's tones were calm, considering rocks were beginning to fall.

"Now we have to run BACK?!" The hume girl protested. Faebhar strode forward confidently, lifting the girl like a bride and beginning his charge back through the cave.

The mine was unstable, lurching and collapsing at an alarming rate. The monstrous roar of the dragon was still audible behind them, cursing them in beastial tongue and seemingly unbothered by the collapse of its lair. Daylight flooded from the path before them, the world falling down behind them, and with the ceiling sealing the way behind them they clamored out of the blackened hell and into the dusty world of Gustaberg.

There were many answers to be had, many things to be discussed. But that would have to wait for another time.

The King of Corsairs Tournament, part 1 (AoA)

2009-02-26T04:07:00.001-05:00

I all but skipped onto the ship, twirling on the deck and turning to seize Kaede’s hands and spin her as well. “Off to Aradjiah, off to Urghuum!” I sing-songed in a cheerful voice, then stopped by the wheel to give it an enthusiastic spin, making the mate cringe.

“Don’t you take ANYTHING seriously, Lord Garath?!” Kaede snapped at me, flushing brilliantly.

I smirked and leaned in close to her, my face mere inches from hers. “Now that’s a better color on you,” I purred, touching my gloved fingers to her chin and stroking it, then laughing and dodging away when she snapped out a katana on me. “Hey now, hey now, don’t get all violent!”

A faint snicker from behind her reminded me we weren’t alone. I stepped around Kaede and bent to help the boy she was bringing along—well, assistant, not boy, I mentally amended, more like an apprentice from what I’d gathered—bring up Kaede’s things. From the way his lips were faintly twitching, he was suppressing a laugh. I winked at him, lugging up a bag with a loud, theatrical groan. “Probably stuffed full of rocks too,” I stage-whispered. “We both know she’s not bringing makeup.”

“Lord Garath!” Kaede looked about two inches from exploding now. “Will you PLEASE stop teasing me and take this seriously?! The tournament is three days from now and you just keep—“

I waved a dismissive hand, then stuck it out to the boy. He was rangy, just on the cusp of filling out properly, with his hair up in one of those gang topknots. He had sheltered, defensive eyes, but gave me a half-smile when he caught my gesture. I smiled back at him much more warmly. “Garath of Ephramad, Viceroy and Captain of the Pearline Swan—“ I indicated my ship with an enthusiastic sweep of my arm. “And most importantly, the most consummate gambler in the whole of Vana’diel!”

He did smile at that. I guess I’m one of those morons that’s hard to take seriously. “You’re kinda young to be a Viceroy aren’t you?” He shook my hand though. “Ranulfe Elspeth. I’m learning the Far Eastern arts under Master Kaede.”

“I’m surprised you have the nerve to train under a man-killer like that,” I laughed. “Have you ever seen Imperial Aht Urhgan before, Ranulfe?”

“Can’t say I have,” Ranulfe admitted with an embarrassed half-smile. “I’m originally from Bastok, before I shipped off to Norg.”

“Well, a man hasn’t lived before he’s seen the Jewel of the Near East.”

“He’s right enough about that, Ranulfe,” Kaede assured him. “It’s an impressive city, and host to this—insane tournament that the Ephramadians are putting on.”

“Tournament?”

I suppressed a chuckle, tugging down on the brim of my tricorne. “You’ll see when we get there. You’re not old enough to enter, and since your mistress here has declined, I guess that means you get to cheer me on. Shouldn’t be hard, I’ve got it in the bag after all. They might as well write my name on the prize already!”

Ranulfe’s eyes burned with curiosity, and he turned towards Kaede. She jerked her chin, still irked by me. “It’s a… gambling tournament, for lack of a better way to put it. The corsairs have opened a great tournament to anyone who wishes to enter that meet certain basic requirements. Since they have no king, this joker has been telling me they plan on crowning the winner of the tournament the King of Ephramad. But I’m sure it’s just a huge gil prize and maybe a boat or two.”

“SHIP, my darling, SHIP,” I corrected her cheerfully. “Boats are for fishing, rowing, and romantic moonlight rendezvous with a lovely lady or two in some secluded cove.” My eyes unfocused as I stared off into the distance. “Ahh, the rocking of the boat adds so much to the fun….”

“Are you telling weird stories again, Garath?”

I spun immediately at the voice from behind me, the owner of which was a graceful Mithran lady stepping from the inside cabin. “Little mother!” I placed my hand at her waist and turned to guide her gently to Kaede and Ranulfe. “This is the lady who has raised me from early childhood, Seikatsu of Windurst.” I smiled down at her affectionately. “It takes a certain kind of patience and/or insanity to put up with me on any sort of regular basis, so I have nothing but the utmost love and affection for her.”

Seik smiled shyly at Kaede and Ranulfe, a long shawl pulled around her shoulders. “Hello,” she said in her soft, biddable voice. “My name is Seik… I believe we’ve met, Miss Kaede, many years ago in Bastok…” Her blue eyes wandered over to Ranulfe. “And I believe you said your last name was Elspeth…?”

Ranulfe stiffened slightly. My hand, now on Seik’s shoulder, tightened slightly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in a controlled voice.

She paused, picking up on his tone, and smiled slightly, bowing her head. “Your eyes are like your mother’s. I’m pleased to meet you.”

He started, clearly taken aback, and I immediately jumped into the conversational opening. “Well then, little mother, if you’re ready to head back to Aht Urhgan, we need to set off with the tide! We can swap war stories on the way over.”

***

“Dreaming of chocobos the night before a journey is supposed to be lucky, right little mother?” I asked her conversationally, brushing out her long hair before bed.

She glanced back at me. “What do you mean, Garath? Chocobos?”

I smiled at her cheerfully, my eyes closed. “Yep! Rampaging chocobos, each with seven tailfeathers, of every color. And then they turned into clouds, and I shot them apart with my gun.” I drew that gun with a flourish of one hand, spinning the chamber idly before snapping it back in its thick wivre-hide holster. “I think it means that seven is going to be my lucky number tomorrow.”

Seik smiled in her mild-mannered way, drawing her hair back across her shoulder to loosely braid. “Are you prepared…? This is a big responsibility for you if you win, Garath, and if you lose I don’t want you to become despondent….”

I smirked, patting her shoulder lightly, before swinging my legs out of the chair and heading for my own cabin. “Worry about yourself, little mother. Are YOU ready?”

She blinked up at me. “What do you mean…?”

I paused, my hand on the doorlatch, then glanced back at her thoughtfully. “I’d bet any sum you cared to name—and you know how I don’t lose—that HE’S going to be there tomorrow, too.”

Her face went pale. I smiled at her more gently now, fighting off the slight twinge of jealousy. I didn’t have to say who I meant. To Seik, there was only one “him.” A bit lonely for me, I guess—I wished for a moment that someone felt that way about me. But then, that’s not something that can be controlled, after all, and perhaps not even something to be envied. “Doesn’t matter though, little mother,” I added, before heading out the door. “If he’s dumb enough to go up against me in the tournament, he’ll be taken down just the same.”

***

I’ll never forget the morning we sailed into the horseshoe-shaped harbor of the Imperial capital. Although this tournament was hosted by the Viceroys of Ephramad and under the auspices of the Rogue Faction, it was officially endorsed by Nashmeira II, and the Empire’s subjects were out in force. The seven ships in the harbor, all Ephramadian, were gleamingly clean and festooned with brilliant banners and pennants, all snapping in the wind under a brilliant sun. My own ship I’d ordered scoured while we were at sea, and I had us run up banners in Norg’s colors as well as Ephramad’s, to indicate the esteemed personages I was ferrying to the tournament festivities.

Ranulfe stood at the railing on the stern, his face alight at the sight of the throng that awaited us. The entire of the harbor quay was packed with people, spectators and entrants alike, the latter still registering for the tournament in long lines that wrapped throughout the Merchant’s Quarter. I grinned, leaning against the rail next to him, trying to look at the colorful crowds from a stranger’s perspective. “All of these people are here for the tournament?” he asked me in an awed voice.

“Probably!” I said cheerfully. “A good bit are likely entering.”

“All of these people are going to have a shot at being King of Ephramad…?”

I chuckled. “Likely not. It’s kind of a long story. Ephramad has seven Viceroys—we’re basically the seven captains of the Ephramadian fleet. Each of us has a flagship like this one, and several other minor ships working under us, each with their own crew. But none of us are actually descendants of the last Ephramadian king.” I made a rueful face, glancing sidelong at him. “Prince Luzaf was the only true Ephramadian heir, and he’s long dead.” I spread my arms. “The royal family used to be Elvaan anyway, and none of that line is still alive in this day, not even a distant relative that we’ve been able to find. Too many years, too much secrecy and interbreeding.”

“But why a tournament?”

“Well, we needed a king, and it’s a very Corsairy way of doing things.” I grinned at him. “It won’t be an easy trip to the end though. For one thing, each Viceroy designed one of the games, and we hired foreign mercenaries to administer the tournament so that we could enter as well if we chose. That way there’s no allegations of throwing it or designing it to benefit one party or another. Also, every single one of the games is a game of chance.”

Ranulfe blinked. “So in the end, the luckiest person is going to win?”

I smirked a moment. “But there’s a good deal of skill involved in luck, Ranulfe. A canny gambler uses observation, logic, problem-solving, quick wits, and determination to spin the odds in his favor. Of course, it doesn’t always work, so that’s where pure luck comes in—but any leader is going to have to deal with raw chance as well. The smartest, wisest, kindest leader in the world could be felled by a stray arrow at any moment.” I shrugged. “We corsairs believe in luck a lot, and we also believe in doing all that we can to manipulate luck. Whatever poor sucker makes it through all seven games in one piece will likely be an able problem-solver as well as damn lucky, and neither trait is bad to have as the King of Corsairs.”

“But you’re going to win?” Ranulfe smiled at me.

“Of course! It’s been my dream forever to be the greatest corsair alive, and how better to be than to be the first and mightiest King of the Corsairs?” I tossed my head, then winked at him. “Still, I bet it’s not going to be easy, so if you get bored, cheer for me okay?”

“Garath!” Kaede called up to me. “Better get going if we’re going to make it there for the opening ceremony!”

And before I knew it, I was on a platform on the docks as a tall Hume man before me prepared to give a speech to the crowd. I eyed the other six Viceroys, all of us in our finest, with giddy anticipation—and a bit of sizing up of the competition, as well. To a man (and woman; one of the other Viceroys was an exceedingly vigorous Elvaan lady that I’d had the opportunity to make extensive acquaintance with), we were entering the tournament. We all wanted to be the best.

Kaede stepped forward. “In the name of the government of Norg and the organization known as the Tenshodo, we will validate the winner of these games—“ She grimaced, hating the words that were coming out of her lips. “—as the King of Ephramad and lord of all Corsairs.”

“In the name of Her Imperial Majesty, Nashmeira II, in the capacity of Grand Vizier of the illustrious and eternal Empire of Aht Urhgan, and by agreement of the Seven Viceroys,” the tall Hume man declaimed in a sonorous voice, “we do declare the King of Corsairs Tournament started! May the best man win!”

A saucy Mithra stepped before the seven docked ships and the amassed crowd, and they hummed in excitement. I think she was the one we agreed to be the chief administrator of the tournament—her company wasn’t the cheapest, but she was the only one who had any sort of experience in this sort of thing. And to be honest, she wasn’t hard on the eyes either, if you get my meaning, though I’m not sure if I specifically would take a chance on asking her out, not least because of the huge Morningstar she seemed to carry at all times. She pointed it now at the assembled entrants. “You hearrrd the man!” she all but crowed. “Come forth when your numbers are called for the first round of the King of Corsairs Tournament! I call it—‘Ultra Explosive BCG Elimination Excitement’!”

As the Raven flies. (AoA)

2009-02-24T07:58:00.002-05:00

This world is rotten.

I am not the first, nor the last to think such a thing, but it was a realization that came to me slowly. I suppose it began to dawn upon me shortly after I found the first black strand interwoven with the gold.

I have nothing left to live for, after all.

I spent many years in the cold. I am not entirely sure why, exactly. Those memories grow fainter with each passing year. Their faces grow dim. I remember a sightless child, his back turned to me, the snow driving all around, whipping his soft cloth robes. I remember a woman with pale golden hair, the smoothness of her naked alabaster shoulder, lying slowly upon sand. I remember an Elvaan with flowing red hair and eyes that lashed and burned, the way his lips twisted, the way his eyes anguished. I remember kneeling before delicate, tiny-boned feet sheathed in velvet. I remember a cermet door, and my soul perishing on the other side.

It was supposed to be my destiny, I think, to die on the other side of that door. Perhaps that is why the black appeared.

So, I wandered in the cold. It was for several years, I think, and memories grew hazy, the mind apathetic to forget. It was silent there, and the entire world held its breath as it shifted beneath my feet. I grew stronger, twisting in mind and body even as my arts sharpened to a finely-honed edge. I have never been so powerful as I am now, and my thoughts have grown sharp and clear, as well.

I had nothing left to live for, I thought to myself at that time, and I yanked away the black when it appeared. Death will surely come on swift wings for me. Those who have nothing to lose are extraordinarily dangerous, but toward what end did I sharpen my skills, hone my craft? What good was a warrior without his soul?

I left the cold at that time, although I was not particularly sure where I was going, or what I would do there. I simply walked. I had money aplenty, though I cared little for it anymore, and took jobs such as interested me, abandoning them undone if they tired me. I felt nothing more like love or hatred in my heart, and my mind felt clear and uncluttered. The voices of others, unheard for so long, sounded loud in my heart and in my ears, and I sorted them disinterestedly. Where once I would have held my mind back for fear of prying or intruding, I now looked dispassionately. I wanted to know how others' minds worked. I wanted to know if I could find the secret to this clarity in their own noisy consciousnesses.

What I found was filth and depravity, selfishness and desire, greed and lasciviousness. Not even children were pure; even the wisest of elders thought only of themselves and their own shallowness. Human minds, I realized, were as a pool of pure, clean water upon which floated a thick film of black oil, filthy and viscous. No matter how I thirsted for the water beneath the refuse, I could not reach into that water without first plunging myself through the oil. And yet, plunge I did, again and again, straining through the taint of human weakness for that seed of light that had to be within each person.

The more I reached into human hearts in such a way, the greater the blackness spread, so that soon, the gold was mostly hidden. The result was somewhat visually unappealing, but I could no longer cut the black away from the gold, or brush my hair in such a way that the black was hidden. The black was encroaching, becoming the predominant color. I had not been among people for some time, but nor had I communed with the souls of animals; it was in humans that my detached interest lay, and in humans that I sought the answer. My Beastmaster's clothes lay under a thick layer of dust, and I forswore heavier armors for only the lightest of hakama and loose robes. I rarely felt cold or heat as it was. I had become barely alive, I think, and yet my mind was as alert and awake as it ever was.

I understood people now. I saw with open eyes the answers to all of the mysteries that had troubled me in my youth. Why he had vanished--why she had turned toward me--why he raged and burned so--why she closed the door behind her. The answers to everything lay within that filth that lay upon each of their souls. And, I supposed, my own. Perhaps this was the meaning of the black that had encroached onto me.

I am utterly alone in this knowledge. I alone of all of the ancients remain. I linger among humanity yet, but I am as removed from them as a single black raven amidst a flock of docile white geese; and I alone know how this must be fixed.

The answer has come to me. I alone am free from love, free from attachments, free from reasons to live, free to raise my hand and push open the Gate of the Gods. For I understand now with this complete clarity why Kam'lanaut and Eald'narche thirsted so for perfection. Only in the torrent of power that washes from the the Gate may mankind be cleansed.

Humanity is evil. I shall purify this Vana'diel, and erase all hint of evil.

This I promise.

Re: Correspondence

2009-02-17T05:06:00.002-05:00

Mr. Kre'oss,

I appreciate the letter. I hope that this finds you well. I'm not sure how the Mog Mail system works in the Empire, but I'll be sure to make note of it myself.

Training with Kaede has proved fruitful. I have learned more about the arts of shadow here than I ever thought possible; I think returning to Bastok and the Tenshodo would turn many a head there. I have unlearned several of the useless and incorrect techniques of evading perception. I would like to think I have learned something resembling discipline.

Kaede thinks so as well, I believe. There was been much happening inside the Council and while I do not know the details I know that several of the known members have arranged travel to the Empire. I will be accompanying Lady Kaede as part of her consort; Eyes in the crowd, ears in the streets. Its exciting, to first be trusted enough with such a task and second to be capable of carrying it out.

I do not know where we will be staying, or for how long, or any details that might compromise our safety. I will write you again when I am able or after I have heard back from you, whichever comes first.

Thank you, Master Kre'oss, for having faith in a silly child in a gang.

-R

Correspondence. (AoA)

2009-02-02T09:57:00.002-05:00

A letter arrives via Mog Mail to Ranulfe in Norg.

To Ranulfe Elspeth:

I hope you forgive the nature of this correspondence; as chance would have it, I am known to Ms. Kaede, and have in the distant past acquaintance with her family and cause to learn the skills and abilities of a Ninja. Although, I must confess, as you likely noted on board the ship from San d'Oria, I practice more frequently the Far Eastern arts of the Samurai.

Via a few business associates I have in Norg, I have had occasion to follow your adventures, out of concern for how you are faring after the mishap on the ship. I am pleased to hear that you are doing well, with no lasting ill-effects from the adventure. I also must express my sincere desire that the mishap should not adversely affect your own comfort and sense of safety when you traverse the seas.

I am glad that you have fallen into reliable company at Norg. As we discovered on our journey to this place, the world is filled with disreputable villains. One must keep one's eyes open and heart steadfast against impure influences. This is the best way to protect oneself, and those that are important. My own family is long-deceased, but you remind me in some small way of my late son. I wonder if you have any family, and what turn of events brought you to Norg? If this inquiry is overly personal, I understand, but I would much care to learn more about you.

Please write to me should you need any assistance, whether in your work or in anything else that you may require. I shall be traveling this week through the distant lands of the Empire, so I shall respond whenever I am able to access the Mog Mail system. I am hoping to meet with you, when as noted before, you have become stronger. There is much I wish to share with you about current goings-on on the mainland and in other parts of the world. You may have begun to sense it yourself, even at your youthful age, but the Emptiness is growing. Darkness threatens Vana'diel once more, corrupting the minds and hearts of men. You and I are in a position to do something about it.

Until such time as we meet again, Ranulfe, I remain most sincerely,

Kre'oss

----------

Kao'nir lay in waist-high tall grass on the wind-swept plains of La Theine Plateau, his arms crossed under his head, and stared up at the stars.

In his mind's eye, a face stared back, a face he could not forget, a face twisted in anger.

If I could just speak to him again, he would understand. If I could tell him, then he'd take back everything he said before. He'd agree with me. He'd see what I meant. I -have- to do this. It's my purpose in life.

It was the first time since he had left Jeuno that he had thought of anything apart from his duty.

Honor Amongst

2009-01-29T12:43:00.002-05:00

Ranulfe woke up with a start. He was dreaming something that caused him to be restless and this spilled over into reality. His heart was pounding, his brow damp with sweat. He held his breath, all senses on alert and he tapped into the adrenaline surge. There was something wrong.

He had been lying low inside of his room in Norg. The men he had been witnessing in public left him feeling uneasy albeit not in danger, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Instead he had been keeping his profile low and not venturing away and into the streets of the smuggler's cove. Something was wrong, however. His gut had never failed him before.

There was no noise outside of his door, no light breaching his room and no reason to be alarmed. Bare feet settled onto the sturdy floor, Ranulfe light on his legs. He crept towards the doorway, retrieving his blade from beneathe his pillow first. There was something wrong.

The door would be trouble. He looked it over for a long moment, wondering how to open it without alarming anyone on the other side. He determined it would be impossible to do so if there was someone watching the doorway. It would be in poor interest to try and sneak away if he had in fact been cornered finally. Ranulfe stood tall, weapon in his hand and walked across his room. There were people here who knew he was here and he knew it. His gut told him there was danger awaiting him and he had no reason to second guess himself, as ludicrous as it seemed to suspect such a thing.

The door opened. With his guard raised, Ranulfe stepped foot outside and into the walkway lit only by the soft candlelight from the main room below. There didn't appear to be anyone there, but it was still dark. Ranulfe listened as hard as he could, strained his ears the best he was able. Once he determined there was no threat in his immediate surrounding he took the steps down.

Sitting at the sole table remaining in the large room was a woman, blonde, in her thirties. She was drinking something steaming from a small cup before her; Ranulfe presumed it was tea. She didn't acknowledge him until he was down the steps and his feet were on the floor in front of her. He didn't say anything and she took a long sip of her beverage before eyeing him up. To Ranulfe's surprise there was a sense of kindness in them.

"We have a small problem." She said finally, carefully placing her cup on the saucer before her. She folded her hands and let out a long sigh.

"No one knows who you are, child. You appeared in my city without a word, no one can identify you. None of the people you speak to in the day employ you, none of the people you speak to know where you came from. Furthermore, you arrived shortly after the day when I was expecting supplies. There has been word reaching my cove of a shipwreck where there were no survivors. Do you see the trouble, young man?" She spoke to him with a mature tone, though it ruffled his feathers that this woman, who was not considerably older than he, addressed him with such a title.

"You think I'm suspicious." His tone was curt, withheld. There was no reason to betray anything she didn't know. To his second surprise, she laughed gently.

"This is Norg, child. I'd only be suspicious of you if you weren't suspicious. The trouble is that you appeared in my neck of the woods without so much as a word, and no one can trace you. My finest men have been monitoring you and I will admit, you are a complete mystery to this place. No one arrives in my city without my knowing, and no one eludes my spies. I will be brief with the information I want from you, and you will answer me or you will be dead before you can stutter." Her tone was suddenly cold, her eyes harsh. There was definitive truth in her words. Ranulfe nodded.

"What is your name?"

"Ranulfe Elspeth."

"You are Tenshodo? Or merely pretending?"

"I am Tenshodo."

"You come from Bastok?"

"Yes."

"There was no boat coming to Norg from Bastok. How did you arrive here?"

He paused. A mistake. She rose from her seat, flicking her wrist forward and exposing a kunai.

"I boarded a ship from the Brugaire Consortium. There was an incident, the men on board were smuggling explosives and weapons, and there was an explosion. I woke nearby and came here for refuge."

"You say you boarded a ship. You were not crew?"

"No."

"Why then?"

"I have nothing left in Bastok. I wanted to pursue my life from our capitol."

She paused, pacing around the table and examining the weapon in her hand.

"Nothing left in Bastok? No family, no friends? Why didn't you join up with the Adventurers there, or become a Musketeer?"

"No family. My mother is deceased, my father absent from our lives. My sisters have become adventurers as well. I did not become one because I failed. My entire family belongs to Bastok, a nation I will have nothing to do with."

She seemed to dwell on this for a moment.

"You are a thief?" she finally asked.

"I am..." His eyes darted away, not knowing how to answer.

"You are...?" She waited for his reply.

"I am Tenshodo."

She smiled, laughing gently to herself, amused. "Yes you are. Come with me, Ranulfe Elspeth. You interest me."

Seasick

2009-01-28T02:27:00.002-05:00

Ranulfe didn't know how to explain that he had been the sole survivor of the ship that never reached Norg. He didn't explain that he had been saved by a passenger who the entire ship had regarded as untouchable. He didn't mention any of the details pertaining to his arrival in the "capitol" of Norg. He instead did his best to remain out of the way and blend in. The bag of currency the strange man had given him went a long way towards finding food and a place to rest his head but now that Ranulfe was actually in Norg he didn't have the faintest idea of where to go.

He spent his days walking the length of the docks, offering help to anyone who looked like they needed it. Trouble with offering help to pirates is that when you're still a pup in their eyes, they're not obligated to accept anything. In retrospect, Ranulfe's plan of "going to Norg" seems as stupid as his sisters' plan to "Become adventurers." He remembered all the times he had yelled at them, telling them that it was a bad idea, that they wouldn't have the first clue as to what to do.

He worried about them. He wondered if they were eating well, if the house was upside down and on fire, if they were safe. His thoughts would often linger back home while he was falling asleep. He began to think this was a mistake.

It was during his second week there that he noticed on his usual walks that he was being followed. He might have a lot to learn about the world but he did have experience dodging the Musketeers from an early age; it was easy to tell when someone was following you. They never came closer than a hundred ilms but they were certainly keeping an eye on him. Two men, garbed in light black armor. Topknots. They carried no weapons visably but there was no such thing as an unarmed person in Norg. Ranulfe thought they might be eyeing him to rob him.

Nothing came of it, at least not at first. They faded into the crowd at some point and Ranulfe missed it. The important part of monitoring the people who are watching you is not to let on you know they're there. They eluded Ranulfe, which made him on edge for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he was safely (as safe as one can be in Norg) in his room at the inn that he felt he could breathe easy.

It went that way for a few more days. There was a sighting of one of these men watching him from afar, then nothing more as they vanished into the hustle and bustle of a working smuggler's dock. Ranulfe worried what was going on, but didn't feel specifically in danger. His nerves were still relaxed, the hair on his neck was still in place. There was nothing to make his pulse accelerate, nothing to kick in his fight-or-flight mechanic. Not yet.

King of the Corsairs (AoA)

2009-01-27T03:54:00.002-05:00

I don't think the guys down at Norg were too happy to see me when I stepped off the Ephramadian sloop that had carried me over from Aradjiah proper. They were cringing right proper when I approached them, anyway, and I doubt it was my natty duds and well-polished boots that did it. They all had on those silly Far Eastern wannabe topknots and tried to placate me with ingratiating grins. "Welcome to Norg, Lord Garath," their leader, a pretend Samurai in red armor and kote, said with a nervous smile.

I smirked. "I'd say it was nice to be here, but I must say that I'm kinda unimpressed with your digs." I glanced around, pulling a face. "This place is the biggest smuggler's hole in the Middle Lands? Seriously? It's a hole in the wall and it stinks of seaweed." I tugged down my tricorne reflexively.

"I'm sure it doesn't compare with the splendors of the Kingdom of Ephramad," my guide tried again, "but it's home. If you'll come this way--"

I trailed after the Tenshodo kiddies, surreptitiously checking out their manpower. A bunch of seedy-looking smugglers; filthy pirates who hadn't bathed in a week; a Galka or two for muscle; a scraggly kid in Bastokan rags trying to get someone, anyone to believe he was important; a Goblin with a tray of worthless brik-a-brak for sale; a couple of sorry-looking chocobos tied up by the cave entrance; and some smug Far Easterners glowering in my direction with ill-hidden contempt. I shot them back a look of same. THESE were Ephramad's allies? Prince Luzaf would be spinning in his watery grave at the depths to which proud Ephramad had sunk.

They took me to the back chambers, guarded by several burly Tenshodo with mean expressions and more tattoos than brains. I had vague recollections of Seik teaching me that the fearsome pirate Gilgamesh had ruled here in his youth. The Rogue Faction had formed the Shadow Council after his death, and it was those eminences that sat in his chambers now. A large round table of black stone rested in the center of the well-appointed room. "Sorry I'm late," I said flippantly, tipping my tricorne to the three seated at the table and their retinues in attendance. "This being my first Shadow Council meeting and all, I'm sure you all will forgive me for being a bit seasick."

I plopped down at the table and propped up my boots on the black stone. An older Mithra seated directly to my left rolled her eyes, her fingers caressing her chin as she took my measure. I shot her a wink, causing her cronies situated behind her to growl fiercely. "How about we start with introductions?" I crooned, at my most persuasive.

"This isn't the time for games, Garath," a stern-faced Hume woman across from me said.

I pouted at her. "Why so mean, sweetie? You know how we Corsairs are--it's ALWAYS the time for games." I swung my feet down. "Besides, I'd LOVE to get your personal info." I grinned at her, gratified by the angry flush that spread across her appealingly pale cheeks.

"Fine, I'll indulge your foolishness," she snapped. "I'm Kaede of Bastok. I represent the interests of the Tenshodo."

An Elvaan man with cold eyes sat to my right and jerked his head at me in a steely nod. "Esterimond of San d'Oria. I represent the Brugaire Consortium."

"Nanaa Mihgo of Windurst," the Mithra to my left half-purred, her eyes half-lidding. "I'm surrrre I don't have to tell you I represent only myself. The gil starts and ends with me in Mindartia, kitten."

"Naturally, madam, your reputation precedes you," I murmured. "And who represents Norg?"

"That would be me," a light voice said behind me.

I turned to look, then rose to my feet. A ravishing woman in the full bloom of maturity stood behind me, wrapped in a skintight catsuit, her tousled, thick red hair flowing down her back. She strode past Esterimond to sit next to Kaede with an air of authority. "The name's Lion," she told me, flashing me a full-lipped smile. "My father was Gilgamesh of Norg."

"My Lady Lion!" I said admiringly, resuming my seat. "I must say, I'm flattered to share a Council table with so many ladies of such legendary beauty and poise."

Esterimond made a soft, rude sound in the back of his throat. "The Rogue Faction has come to a sorry state indeed, that so many mere females sit at Council."

"Say that to my face, you stuck-up--!" Nanaa Mihgo started, but I held up a gloved hand.

"I haven't gotten to introduce myself yet. I'm sure you're all dying of curiosity." I smirked. "I am Viceroy Garath of the Kingdom of Ephramad, Captain of the Pearline Swan."

"I see your own reputation is one hundred percent correct, my Lord," Lion said with a mischievious grin. "I've heard you're quite the charmer."

"And no doubt that I'm an ambitious swindler," I laughed. "All true, no doubt. Men without drive don't make it in Ephramad."

"Is it trrrrue you don't have a drop of Ephramadian blood in you?" Nanaa Mihgo asked shrewdly.

I shrugged exaggeratedly, my eyes carelessly closed and my hands spread. "Who could say? Who these days IS a true Ephramadian? All I know is, Ephramad and indeed our entire Rogue Faction, is where a man with no name and no wealth can make both for himself if he has the nerve--" I flourished my spread hands and suddenly had a hexagun pointing straight at Kaede's head, then in another swift motion it was gone. "--and the ability." I smiled at her winningly, and she lowered a drawn kunai slowly, her eyes still narrowed at me. "My title has nothing to do with my parents, I can tell you that much. I was adopted when I was five by a free-minded Mithra named Seikatsu, and I can tell you that she instilled the right sorts of values in me, which is to say: 'There is no glory or honor in battle, but in it a man can gain or lose all he desires.'"

Lion smiled approvingly at my quote of the Corsair saying. "Well put, Lord Garath."

"Enough frivolities," Esterimond said impatiently. "We have business to discuss."

"Not least is the leadership situation in Ephramad," Kaede added sharply. "What is the status, Lord Garath? Too long have you Ephramadians claimed you a kingdom without a king!"

I leaned back again in my chair, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. A pair of dice blossomed in my hands and I rolled them around slowly, letting them tumble across my leather-swathed palm. "You must understand, my dear Lady Kaede, Prince Luzaf was the last of Ephramad's royal line, and he perished well over two centuries ago without an heir. As everyone knows, in the first few years of our existence as a kingdom, we tried to find anyone of the royal blood remaining, but there's just none. It's been too long, and there's been too much persecution and--dare I say it--interbreeding with our Imperial oppressors to maintain a true bloodline." I winked at Kaede, who still looked vaguely scandalized.

"So what's the plan?" Nanaa Mihgo demanded. "The longer you all remain leaderrrless, the easier it'll be for some other country to come in and pluck you like a Buburimu grape."

"Unlike other countries, we don't NEED a king to defend ourselves," I snapped back with a bit more pique than I really meant. "So far, we've been making decisions in committee much like this one. All ship captains have a seat at the table."

"So no news to report then?" Esterimond drawled. "How typical of our lazy Ephramadian brothers."

DAMN, he was pissing me off. I was beginning to thank my stars that the royal family of Ephramad HAD died all off, if they were all Elvaan like this prig. I rolled my eyes. "Actually, we're going to find a more... unorthodox solution to finding a king," I said with a wide grin.

Lion raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A tournament!" I smiled, leaning forward. "Open to everyone in the Rogue Faction, actually. Winner take all. One of those silly games you all love from us so much."

Kaede tried to stifle a sound that was half gasp, half laugh. "You're handing over leadership of the world's most powerful navy to... to.... the winner of a GAME?!"

I smirked and with a jerk of my hand, dealt an ice-blue card into the center of the table, following them with my dice. They landed upon the card, then froze into a block of ice. "You got it, cutie," I told her. "And I intend on winning."

"Surely you're not serrrrious," Nanaa Mihgo protested disgustedly. "You're barely more than a kitten, and you're gonna be the King of Ephramad?"

"Yup!" I bounded up from my chair. "Might as well put your money on it now, ladies and gentle--well, really just ladies here aren't we?" I gave Esterimond a scathing look, which he returned in full force. "The odds are good and likely that Garath is going to become King of the Corsairs--" I drew my gun once again, with a wide flourish, then pointed it at the sky. "--and then, ALL of the world's riches will be mine!"

Crash. (AoA)

2009-01-20T03:37:00.002-05:00

As Ranulfe had darkly noted on the first day of his trip, the sailors on board the creaky Norg vessel were none-too-pleased to have passengers aboard, and constantly muttered amongst themselves, shooting him unpleasant glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Their tune was entirely different, however, when they put in at an abandoned beach as they rounded Cape Terrigan to pick up another passenger.

Unlike Ranulfe, the crew and especially the captain treated this man with a fearful respect, and avoided him entirely if at all possible. Ranulfe was mildly curious as to whom could command such a respect that the vessel would retrieve him in such a mysterious manner, but the man was singularly uncommunicative. Unlike Ranulfe, who was put to menial tasks to "make hisself useful," as the mate would spit at him, the new passenger did little but sit astern, staring out at the grey, choppy waves of the ocean as the ship slunk steadily southeast.

Ranulfe's resentment grew each time he saw the special treatment the man commanded. He ate little and ignored almost all attempts at socialization, simply pinning the captain or crewmember that dared with an intense stare until they left him alone. Ranulfe failed to see what was so unusual about the man. His age was difficult to determine--perhaps nineteen or twenty, not so far off from Ranulfe's age, save that his gaze was mature to the point of giving his face the cast of someone far older. He had but one eye, pitch-black in color, the other covered in an eyepatch bound up beneath his hair, which was also the darkest black and overgrown down to the nape of his neck. He was probably a Samurai in profession, gauging from the long blade that he wore sheathed on his hip, and his loose hakama of vaguely Far Eastern origin. More than his appearance, however, was his mien: stern and absent, his single-eyed stare piercing, as if it went right through Ranulfe and bored into his mind. It reminded him a little of someone else he had met, perhaps, only there was nothing innocent or youthful about it. This man had known blood, and Ranulfe felt his stomach twist a little as if his internal organs shivered from an icy touch whenever he met that gaze.

However, apart from the uneasy feelings that the man aroused within him, Ranulfe found little to care about in his demeanor. He strived to make himself a part of the scenery, doing what tasks were assigned to him and avoiding the captain's eye the rest of the time, willing the shabby boat to somehow cut through the waters separating them from Norg and get them there faster. The rolling motion of the ship surprisingly did not suit him, though it might have been because the ship was leaky and stank of seaweed. Ranulfe was fed very little and had almost nothing in the way of stores remaining, which didn't help his situation.

On the evening of the fifth day, just as the last of the sun was fading from the western horizon, Ranulfe carefully snuck down into the ship's stores. His stomach was aching badly from lack of food. Although the captain hadn't said he could have anything, he was sure he could scrounge some sort of crust of bread to tide him over--they were supposed to be docking in Norg in the morning. He shakily lit a lantern and hung it by the door, rummaging through the large crates stored in the back cabin--only to jerk his hands back in surprise. Each crate was filled to near-bursting with gunpowder and ammunition, well-oiled muskets and polished armor.

"Does it surprise you?" a soft voice addressed him from behind.

Ranulfe whirled, his eyes narrowing, his hands automatically balling up and raising to protect himself. It was the other passenger, leaning lightly against the doorframe, his loose gi negligently wrapped around himself but his pale hand carefully positioned on the hilt of his great katana. He stepped into the room, past Ranulfe, and leaned toward the crates, looking inside. "Our captain is no ordinary Ephramadian, as I'm sure you can tell. His leanings are in... more secular directions."

"He's probably just--just trading these--" Ranulfe stammered out, struggling to find a reason. "There's no way they're Muskies, they look nothing like them--I'd know--"

"Of course they're not actual Musketeers." The stranger inclined his head toward Ranulfe, accepting the point, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. "These are the type that'll trade to anyone. Bastokan, Ephramadian... or beastmen, naturally." He set his free hand on top of one of the crates. "The Quadav in the Palborough Mines near Bastok have been seen lately using explosives and gunpowder, just the same as the Humes that fight them. There's worries that they might be trying to tunnel underneath the city..." His one good eye moved to Ranulfe. "And pay the Humes back for all of the times their own homes were exploded into nothingness."

Ranulfe bit back his panic, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "You... you don't know that..." It couldn't be true, could it? His sisters... they couldn't be...

The man turned away. "There's filth in every society, boy. Money is all they care for, and they don't care about anyone who gets in the way." The faintest hint of a sneer colored the man's voice, and he shook his head.

"So you'd rather we were all -adventurers-?" Ranulfe couldn't help but growl the hated word.

The man snorted in response. "Hardly. I answer to no one, no nation, no organization. My way is to go through this world we live in and crush the filth such as these--" He waved his hand up at the ceiling, indicating the captain, the crew. "--for the betterment of all. One day, perhaps you will understand. Until then."

Ranulfe watched the man leave with a deep sense of foreboding.

Sometime in the depths of that night, a lantern hung carelessly in the stores fell and ignited the hidden gunpowder and armaments. The resulting explosion was all that Ranulfe remembered--a booming roar so loud that he thought for a moment the entire world beneath him was upheaving outward, like an earthquake contained only to the ship.

When he awoke, he was lying on the shore of an unknown land. Burning wreckage of a ship lit the horizon in the far distance. He leaned up, soaked to the bone; the other passenger, the mysterious Samurai, stood next to him, also dripping. Ranulfe looked up at him, and the man looked back emotionlessly.

"Y-you... saved me?" was all that Ranulfe managed to say.

"You're worth too much to let drown," the man replied casually. "You're not tainted by greed like those men were. I think, one day, you could learn to see the filth of this world and resist their attempts to sway you."

Ranulfe said nothing, lowering his gaze. The man pointed to a rocky cove several miles down the beach. "That is the hidden dock cavern of Norg. You will find people there that can make you stronger." He dropped a small pouch, heavy and jingling, at Ranulfe's feet. "Don't go hungry anymore. Train and become strong. I saved your life for a purpose, and one day, I will return to you for that purpose."

He pulled a thin whistle from a chain around his neck and blew upon it; a large black war chocobo emerged from the thick forest just off the beach, and the man swung up onto its neck. Ranulfe watched him, unable to say anything or even move until the man had vanished from sight, leaving only the soaked boy on the beach and the burning wreckage off in the distance as indication that he had been there at all.

Sea (AoA)

2009-01-14T05:40:00.002-05:00

Ranulfe had left San d'Oria not a moment too soon. He was still smoldering over that kid in the Southern section of the city when he checked in with his comrades at the Consortium. They had warned him against leaving their docks; Unlike in Bastok where the Muskies would do their best to track down and arrest (or at least hold) the members of the Tenshodo, the Consortium on San d'Oria was on a pretty steady relationship with the Knights. As long as the Consortium at least looked like they were minding their own business in the ports of the city, the Knights wouldn't hassle them too much. It was strange to see the two classes chatting and laughing with each other.

Ranulfe had ignored the wisdom heeded by Jorget, the man he was directed to by Tsurai.

"Don't stray too far from the docks. I know yer' boat won't be arrivin' until later in the day, but trus' me; Ya don't wanna get caught up drinkin' rotgut with the woodsmen guild or worse, fin' yerself strung up by a Knight. We're on pretty good terms with 'em but yer new aroun' here and they'll smell it. Ya don't wanna get busted for somethin' ya didn't do, 'specially since none o' yer fellows'll be aroun' to bus' ya outta the clink, if they put ya there."

Jorget, for all his fancy sounding name, was just as rough around the edges as the rest of the Tenshodo. For a Consortium fellow, he certainly felt like he came from the slums of Bastok.

Against the grain, Ranulfe had left the docks. He ran into some kid, said something that was offensive to the guy and they squared off verbally. It wasn't one of his best moments, not by a longshot.

This was what he was looking for, though. This was his break, this was his way out. Things had fallen apart at home with not only his parent but also now with his sisters. Ceecee had thrown a good one before they left, and even days after the fact his cheek hurt with the bruise.

Ranulfe remembered all the times he had taken care of his sisters when they were younger, all the times he was looked up to.

"Onii-chan will save us from the monsters!"

"Onii-chan will save us from the Turtles!"

"Onii-chan's not afraid of them!"

"He's our Onii-chan, mister!"

That was before he had badmouthed his cur of father, before his sisters had said they were responsible for Mom's death. That was before the world took such a grim angle. Before then, he felt that at least he had his sisters to be close to, to take care of and protect. They didn't need him anymore. If that weird guy from the Empire was going to do anything, his sisters wouldn't need him there to get hacked up.

The boat that would be leaving San d'Oria was in poor shape. The vessels the Tenshodo (and the Consortium) used were often gotten by illicit means and not all of those who found themselves as captains had the money necessary to keep a ship afloat. This one had arrived in dreary shape but it had arrived. The weather was reportedly fair for the next few days, and the trip to his destination wouldn't take longer than a night or three.

Ranulfe settled into his spot under decks. It wasn't supposed to house more than the crew of a particularly-ill-mannered Seadog and even though Tsurai had pulled strings to get Ranulfe this far that didn't mean the captain had to be pleased with the fact his ship had a stranger on board. The crew didn't seem thrilled, the captain didn't seem thrilled. Ranulfe felt like... Well, like he suspected the Galka used to feel. It was a hostile environment but he was okay with that. It just meant the feelings he had left in Bastok and now San d'Oria were sticking with him.

The ship escaped from the docks of San d'Oria in the middle of the night. Its destination was the fabled Tenshodo stronghold of Norg, hub of smuggling and communication with the Ephramadian empire, thorn in the side of law and order the world over. It would be a place for a nobody like him to become a nobody with a purpose. His destiny, or whatever parts of his future constituted his destiny, awaited him.

A Feeling (part 3)

2008-12-15T17:53:00.003-05:00

I think something might be wrong with me.

Concentrating is becoming exponentially more arduous for me, and it's beginning to extend into other areas of life. My spells feel different, almost alien, now. When I attempt to cast a spell, it feels more unpredictable. Sometimes the spells are less powerful than I intend, other times, more powerful...once, two spells even sort of melded together into something else completely.

Maybe I should take it easy. Rest more, try not to utilize my spells as much for a few days? I suppose that will have to do for the time being, I'm sure that all I need is to spend a day or two in bed and a couple more days without any stressful activities and my concentration will be back to normal again.

I hope.

------------------------------------------------------------

Something is wrong. Something is definately wrong.

My spells...I...I'm afraid I can't control it. I feel more like...like it's controlling me. Spells casting of their own volition, regardless of whether or not I'm making any attempt to cast any spells at all. Spells I cast go completely haywire or out of control, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and keep it from becoming too hazardous.

I'm too dangerous to stay here. I will not endanger the lives of people around me. I can't. I just...I can't.

I need to leave here. Now.

-----------------------------------------------------------

A moogle flutters into the room, looking around for his master. No sign of him is readily obvious--the room looks more disheveled than usual, several things knocked over onto the floor...he begins to become worried as he sees one of his master's plants is now crystalline, frozen with ice that doesn't seem to be melting at all, a scorch mark in the shape of a hand along the wall, and a letter amidst the chaos left in the wake of what seems to have almost been a fight.

The letter seems to be addressed to Kre'oss, and the moogle carries it off in search of the letter's addressee.

Kre'oss,

I'm sorry. I cannot stay here any longer. It's as I feared, I can't control it anymore, and I only wish I could see the signs sooner. Unfortunately, hind sight does no good now, does it? I'm afraid that I'm forced to keep this short, so I can't explain it. I can't stay in Windurst. Or any populated area right now. I'm going home. I can only pray that I'll be able to return...I love you, Kre'oss, and I'm sorry for any pain or trouble I've caused you. I hope you can forgive me for the trouble I've put you, and everyone else, through. Please don't follow me...please. I can't explain, but following me might put you, and anyone who comes with you, in danger. And I don't want that.

Goodbye.
-Caen'ir

(( Last one for now. ))

A Feeling (part 2)

2008-12-13T22:57:00.007-05:00

I don't understand what's going on anymore. It's been getting more and more difficult for me to concentrate recently. I constantly find my mind wandering, and sometimes it feels like it's impossible to get it back under control once more. Maybe it's that odd feeling I've been having lately. I'm still unsure of what's causing it and what, exactly, it's about, but it hasn't gone away yet.

This can't keep going on. It's really starting to bother me...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something must be wrong with me.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't on the floor, either. In fact...I wasn't on the ground at all. I was floating. That's right. Floating. I don't know how. What's happening to me? Maybe...maybe I just imagined it all? Laying on a bed of air and magic? Falling back onto my own bed? Perhaps it was all just a dream? Yes...just a dream.

That has to have been it. Just a weird, vivid, dream.

(( Sorry I keep posting short ones. I might combine them all into one big post when I'm done. ))

A Feeling (part 1)

2008-12-13T00:52:00.003-05:00

I can barely hear myself think.

Incantations are spoken in hushed whispers throughout my mind. The words and letters blur, melding together indistinctly. I can't hush the voices or stop the intermingling of the words--I can only watch helplessly as they do so. I can feel it slipping, but I'm afraid I can't hold onto it. I...am not sure what "it" is, but when I imagine not having it, I can feel a knot of horror in the pit of my stomach.

It isn't a person. It isn't a phsyical object. I don't know how I know this, but whatever "it" is, I know it's not either of those. It's something I feel like I require, but what? I can't, for the life of me, figure it out.

What is "it"? Why am I so frightened by the possible loss of it? How and why am I losing it? Is there even an "it"? Or...am I just imagining things?

I need to know. Soon.

The legacy of the Zilart. (Age of Adventurers)

2008-11-25T08:23:00.003-05:00

My name is Kao'nir, and I am the Archduke of Jeuno.

Why Jeuno should need an Archduke is beyond me, because the city's been empty for as long as I can remember. My mother says it was abandoned shortly before I was born. I go there to play sometimes with Jalah, my guardian. There are leaves strewn in the streets and the detrius of years of neglect. It's amazing how quickly Vana'diel takes back its own.

My mother is my regent. The others that remain with us in Delkfutt's Tower call her the Duke Vicarious. There are only twenty or so of us, people who cling to the old ways, my mother says, people who don't want to acknowledge that the Grand Duchy is little more than a footnote to history. The previous Archduke, my father Kam'lanaut, died before I was born. His brother, my uncle Eald'narche, has been missing for twenty years and is assumed dead. That just leaves my mother and I to continue on.

But the secret that I keep, the reason that we continue on in Delkfutt's Tower, is that our line was entrusted with a grand mission.

"Kao'nir," my mother always told me, "we are the guardians of all life on Vana'diel. We aren't like other people. So, we have to protect them. We have to nurture the life force of this world, so that everyone in it is made safe."

When I was little, my mother would hold me before I fell asleep and tell me this story:

"In the beginning, there was a crystal. Its multi-colored light banished the darkness and brought forth mighty gods. Of these, the nature of the division between light and dark brought forth Altana, the Goddess of the Dawn, and Promathia, the God of Twilight. In time, the crystal shattered into five pieces, and the gods left this world behind for Paradise. What remained became our Vana'diel.

"Now, in time, the nature of the division created two peoples. There was a people of light, and a people of dark. Because the gods dwelled apart, the people of light had none to instruct them in the ways of the world. They relied on their technology and built a soaring white capital. They explored the world around them and knew it was good. And they shared a special bond--because they were filled with the light of the crystal, their minds and hearts were as one."

This was my favorite part of the story, because I could feel my mother's thoughts and feelings as she spoke.

"And the children of dark did not have this connection. Their hearts and minds were touched by shadows. They turned to the forces of magic and communed with the gods that were set to protect this world.

"When the elder prince of the people of light found the life-giving crystal, he had a vision of all that came before, and his people shared in his vision. The prince decided that his people would use their arts to attempt to make what was once whole, one again. But the people of dark disagreed, and they warred. When the war was over, the people of light were defeated, and the people of dark exhausted. The warring peoples passed away from Vana'diel, and left this world to the five races that would come of the crystal."

"Mother," I would say, "why did this happen? Why did the people die?"

"Because they lost sight of their primary duty: to protect the crystal. Without the crystal, we are all nothing more than dust and ash."

Then, one day, she added the important part.

"Kao'nir, you and I, and your father, are the last remnants of the people of light. We are Zilart. We are living members of the ancient race that died out 10,000 years ago."

And my life made complete sense. This was why I lived alone with my mother and her few confidants in Delkfutt's Tower. This was why I knew the thoughts and hearts of others. I was one of the people of light. It was because of our war that Vana'diel was rendered barren, then born anew. It was my birthright, and my family's curse.

"Shouldn't we not be here?" I asked her. "Our race is supposed to be gone.... it's not our time anymore."

"Your father felt the same way at first," she told me. "But in the end, we decided that it is the right of life to live. And, we decided to bear you to continue the legacy of the Zilart--that the Mothercrystal will always have a guardian. But bear this in mind too, Kao'nir--our ancient struggles must not be brought into this time. There are Kuluu that survive into this era as well, though only one or two. We must not begin the war again."

"Are there other Zilart?"

"We have all died out, but us two. We alone make up the Zilart race. When you pass on, my son, there will be no more Zilart. So, it is important that you live a long life and protect the crystal."

I was born for a purpose! The excitement of that thought, held so crystal-clear and firmly in my mother's mind, passed into my own, and filled me with energy and strength. My mother's mind was always turned toward duty. She was ancient, and the memories of thousands upon thousands of years were almost overwhelming for me; but her life was so dedicated to one overarching purpose that everything else was incidental. Mother was a woman who served the crystal. Her uniquely long life, and her singular sense of purpose, were bent only toward that goal. I sensed she loved me, of course, and admired my father, but their coupling had not been for any purpose other than conceiving the next generation of Zilart, the child to whom she would entrust the enormous duty of protecting the crystal.

This didn't make me feel lonely. I had a reason for living. And it's not like I would be alone.

Ever since I was able to sit up as a baby, I had Jalah by my side. He was an ancient arcana automaton, a large doll so rusted and weatherbeaten at first that it took me years to get him looking presentable. I could control and communicate with all Zilartian arcana, of course, but I had a special bond with Jalah; he would carry me on his broad shoulders as we explored Qufim Island together, and with a single thought I could move him as I wished.

-----

One day, we snuck back from Jeuno and Mother was waiting for us by the sloping entrance to Delkfutt's Tower with Wolfgang. Wolfgang had once been the captain of my father's Ducal Guard, but now Mother kept him with us as her bodyguard; the years had made his face worn, and he had steel-gray hair down to his chin. Mother kept very few in Delkfutt's Tower that were not the ancient scientists of the Armathrwn Society, now all so old and feeble that they needed help to eat and bathe themselves, but Wolfgang was one of the few Humes she allowed around. "Lord Kao'nir," Wolfgang said sternly, "you really should stop with these little side-trips. The city isn't safe for a boy on his own."

"I wasn't alone!" I protested. "I had Jalah with me after all!"

Jalah reached up a large hand and lifted me down from his shoulders, whirring faintly. "He says he'd never let anything bad happen to me, and that he sensed no life-forms inside Jeuno anyway," I translated.

Mother sighed. "More importantly, we required you back at the Tower for another purpose."

I raised my eyebrows. There was something different in her tone today. "What purpose, Mother?"

"Tomorrow is your twelfth birthday," Wolfgang said gruffly. "The Duke Vicarious thinks it's time for you to finally see the world outside of Qufim Island."

My heart leapt, and my eyes quickly flickered to my mother, reading the truth of his words in her mind. She nodded gravely. "I've decided to take you to La Theine Plateau," she said quietly, and I heard her adding in her mind, "This is a special rite of passage for you. Our people must honor the old ways and the old gods, that they might be appeased and the war will not continue."

"Will you be coming with us too, Wolfgang?" I asked him.

He shook his head, his eyes muted as he looked away, and I could feel his sorrow and worry, seemingly well-concealed. "No, Lady Esha'ntarl feels it is best she alone accompany you."

"Not even Jalah?!" I tried to hide my own disappointment, and Jalah whirred disconsolately next to me.

Mother stifled a small smile. "He would be pretty out of place where we're going. Don't worry, we will be back."

-----

The winds of the plateau were whipping our hair and clothes when we finally reached our destination: a small circle of weathered stones in the far north. I shivered and clutched my black robes to me more tightly; my mother had tamed my golden-colored hair as best she could before we came, and wrapped me in the robes of the Armathrwn Society, but I still looked sloppy and far shabbier than her. She stood in the center of the circle of stones, holding firmly onto my hand, the queen of the elements around her. The approaching storm rumbled off in the distance as she spoke firmly, her strident voice ringing off of the stones around us.

"O Carbuncle! Bringer of rainbows! I, Esha'ntarl, call you forth! I bring the hope for mankind--the protector of the crystal!"

I shrank back a little as the stones suddenly came alight in many colors, and a summoning circle appeared beneath us. I could suddenly feel a presence--as immense as it was ethereal, of Vana'diel yet so much more powerful than me that I felt like an insect. Was this a god?!

A turqoise creature appeared from the ether, floating above us, his own long tail wrapped around him. I recognized him from my studies: the terrestrial avatar, Carbuncle. The ruby-red gem on his head marked him true, glittering in the brilliant light from the stones and his own radiance. "Welcome, Esha'ntarl," he called forth, his genderless voice pressing into my mind. I tried to resist the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. "And welcome, Zilartian boy. What is your name?"

"K-Kao'nir," I stammered, flushing.

"Were your mother any less of an eminence than the woman who stands outside of time, I would kill you," Carbuncle said conversationally. "The Zilart are the enemies of the avatars, and of the crystal."

"That time is past," Esha'ntarl said firmly. "Only we remain, my son and myself. And we stand ready to take up our destiny as the protectors of the crystal. We have no intentions of opening the Gates of Paradise."

Carbuncle lowered himself and gazed into my eyes, his face close to mine. His own were large and blacker than the darkest night sky. I shrank back slightly, overwhelmed. "Is that so?" he asked softly. "Do you intend to forswear the treachery of your ancestors, Kao'nir, and protect this world?"

"I... I do...." I said faintly. "I want to protect Vana'diel! It's the reason I was born...."

"But that's not enough!" Carbuncle said sternly. "This is no longer the world for Zilart or Kuluu alike. This world is peopled by new types of man, by those who stand apart from the ancient struggle between light and dark, and charge into it headlong and without regrets. How can you, one hampered by the tragic history and destiny of your kind, possibly presume to defend the crystal better than they?"

These were big questions, questions I had not prepared myself for. I glanced up at my mother, but her mind and eyes were closed, and she remained mute. I sensed this was for me alone to decide. I looked back to Carbuncle. "Protecting the crystal isn't any one person or race's responsibility... but I have a unique ability to do so. My mother has trained me from my earliest childhood, taught me the histories, my responsibilities as one of the ancients, and I have the whisper of the soul!" I leaned forward in my eagerness, my momentary fear of the terrestrial avatar gone. "I might just be a child, but this is the purpose of my life! This is what I want to do--please, Lord Carbuncle, give me your blessing! Being Zilart or Kuluu doesn't matter anymore, all that matters is that I want to help make Vana'diel safe!"

Carbuncle regarded me for a long moment, then looked back to Mother. "You have done well, Lady Esha'ntarl," he said thoughtfully. "This boy is sincere, and his mind is as plate-glass. You have raised him to be almost as focused on his duty as you yourself are, and for that you are to be commended. But the fact remains that he is a Zilart, and our ancient hatreds are slow to die."

"We can overcome that hatred," Mother said with finality; there was no doubt at all in her mind, and I drew on that, pulling her determination into myself as we faced Carbuncle together.

"Then I give my blessing in the hopes that you are right," Carbuncle said, and he touched his nose briefly to my forehead. It felt quite cold, and a tingling energy passed from him into me. I shivered. "The boy must journey to each of my brothers in turn, however, and ask THEIR blessings--alone."

"Alone?!" Mother exclaimed. "But he is only--"

"If he is sincere and courageous he will have nothing to fear," Carbuncle said dismissively. "The boy seems free from the sins of your kind--the egomania of Kam'lanaut, the insanity of Eald'narche, and the taint of his father."

I started, my insides freezing. "W-what?... But... but Kam'lanaut--the Archduke of Jeuno--was my father..."

"Is that what you were told?" Carbuncle asked mildly. "That is not true. Seek out my brothers--Fenrir, Diabolos, and Bahamut the Wyrm-King--and obtain their blessing, young Zilart boy. Go in peace."

He leapt into the air, his tail wrapping tightly around himself as his form dissipated into brilliant light. I ran after him. "Wait!" I yelled. "Wait--who was my father?!"

The faint whisper echoed in my mind as the light faded from view. "Your father? The fallen one, the black warrior--Kre'oss."

Neglect (AoA)

2008-11-10T02:17:00.002-05:00

I saw a man beating a child today.

It was a Hume man beating a little Galka boy. The Galka boy must've been 8 or 9 years old, though it's hard to tell with them. He had his big arms up around his head and he was crying in a thin, wailing voice; he'd lost a lot of weight for a Galka, and the man was hitting him around the head and shoulders with a switch. He was putting a lot of force into it.

I was "one" that day. I don't like being "one." I feel like a different person when I am "one" rather than when we are "two."

"What is that called again, Ally?"

"Child abuse, right?"

"Yeah. Why would anyone beat a child like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because he was bad, or because the man was mean."

"It was a Hume, so it wasn't like it was his papa."

"Grown-ups are so careless."

"Yeah, they have kids they don't want."

"They don't take responsibility."

"They treat them harshly, or leave them all alone to raise themselves."

"But that's what Papa and Mama did to us!"

"So we've been 'abused' too?"

"Yeah, they did just the same. But we turned out okay, didn't we?"

"Of course! We're okay because we're never alone."

"If I didn't have you, it'd be impossible."

"I know."

"Does that mean Nii-chan was 'abused'?"

"No. Papa and Mama wanted Nii-chan. He was with them alone for six years."

"They must've been so happy. Nii-chan looks a lot like Papa."

"Nii-chan is a lot like Papa, too."

"He's more like Papa than us."

"We must be like Mama."

"Nii-chan thinks he's the only one that was hurt when Mama died."

"Nii-chan would laugh if we said we'd been neglected."

"Maybe he's right.... he's 'one' after all."

"But he has memories of Mama."

"Yeah."

"We're the ones that killed her."

"Yeah."

"So, does that mean we're the reason Nii-chan was 'abused'?"

"He's lonely because of us."

"We really are the bad people."

"Yeah, we're the bad people."

"This is why he hates us."

"He hates us."

We're together, but we're alone. I never had to ask what it means to trust someone. I've always known the meaning. The "A" burned into my chest was proof.

Open Sea (Age of Adventurers)

2008-11-08T17:31:00.001-05:00

The musketeers never looked on the rooftops. Sure, from the upper windows of the nearby homes you could maybe make out his prone figure laying on top of the warehouse but given the dead of night and the lack of lamps that high, it was a slim chance. Despite the chaos below him as the musketeers searched for anyone foolish enough to hide on ground level Ranulfe was comfortable. Above him the clear night sky shone down on him, the moon half full. Beside him the open waters of the Bastore Sea gently sloshed against the stone walls bracing the harbor. It was easy to tune out the clanking footsteps in armor and just think.

He was still stinging from his argument with Ceelia the day before. What was it she had said? It was odd for him to worry about his sisters? It wasn't always like that. He recalled a time when they were younger.
***
"Hi Nii-chan!"

"Hi Nii-chan!"

They spoke in almost unison and smiled at him with a dripping sweetness that was infectious. They were so cute in their matching outfits, standing next to him at the breakfast table and holding hands. The morning was still young and already it was just them at home. They were maybe seven.

"Morning, you two," he said smiling back. They were always so upbeat when they were together.

"Morning you two!"

"Morning you two!"

Ranulfe sighed and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and went back to finishing the bowl of oatmeal before him while grinning. His sisters giggled and in unison rolled their eyes and put the back of their hands to their foreheads, sighing heavily.

"So what are you going to do today?" he said between mouthfuls of his breakfast.

"So what are you going to do today?"

"So what are you going to do today?"

The mithra giggled again, their eyes shining happily.

"Oh me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg." Ranulfe smiled a bit as his sisters' smiles faded just a bit and there was a distinct pause before they replied.

"Oh, me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg."

"Oh, me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg."

Ranulfe laughed and his sisters did their best to mimic him, genuine laughter pouring through.

"Are you going to copy me all day?" he asked with his tongue in his cheek.

"Are you going to copy me all day?"

"Are you going to copy me all day?"

"I guess so."

"I guess so."

"I guess so."

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

Ranulfe smiled at his sisters and laughed, the twins in front of him giggling like mad and waiting for the next challenge.

"Okay, I guess you win..."

"Okay, I gues you win..."

"Okay, I gues you win..."

"But that's only because I smell like a galka!"

"Eeeee! Nii-chan admitted he smells like a gal~ka!"

"A big smelly gal~ka, Nii-chan is!"

His sisters giggled and clasped hands over their mouths. Ranulfe rolled his eyes and polished off his breakfast as his sisters held their noses and waved their hands in front of their faces, making over the top faces.
"Ew, he does smell like a gal~ka!"
"A great big stinky gal~ka! Worse than a cho~co~bo!"
They looked at each other just then, seemingly shocked by the inclusion of the big yellow birds.

"A cho~co~bo?

"Yes, a big smelly cho~co~bo!" They turned their attention towards their brother with starry-eyed wonder.

"Do you think he could carry us like a cho~co~bo?" came the question like he wasn't even there.

"Nii-chan!"

"Nii-chan!"

"Carry us like a cho~co~bo!" they shouted in unison, their hands outstretched to their older brother. "You don't want to be carried by a dirty galkan chocobo, though..."
"We do! We're sorry you said you smell."
"Yeah, you said you smell."
Ranulfe sighed and before long the people of the markets saw the hume boy running around with a pair of mithra affixed to his back.

Hatred (Age of Adventurers)

2008-11-05T07:38:00.005-05:00

"And WE'RE going to be the ones to make Mama and Papa proud!"

So it was like that, then? Didn't she get they were already his favorite? Who were they trying to prove themselves to? Ranulfe sat with his head in his hands at the waterfront, only partially paying attention to the men unloading the cargo from the boat currently docked.

"I HATE YOU NII-CHAN!"

His sisters were so prone to emotional outbursts. They were constantly turned to maximum voltage and it was sometimes hard to be around. He knew she didn't mean it; it wouldn't be the last time she'd yell at him like that he was sure.

What was it she said? Something about him being JEALOUS he wasn't an adventurer? That was laughable. The Tenshodo didn't need a shiny piece of paper to allow them to act. They didn't need the resources of a pacified nation, either, OR the assistance of the Moogles. No sir, the Tenshodo didn't need anyone to get by, and they didn't since Aldo had died. Everyone for themselves, no central organization here. No way, no how.

Still, someone needed to keep an eye on his sisters. He knew he couldn't count on his father and no one else in the city would care much about the twins who became adventurers. Maybe when he left Bastok for Ephramad he could take them with him. There's a laughable thought. Like they have any skills to offer a scoundrel group.

Leave the skulking in the shadows and things your parents wouldn't be proud of to him. They're the ones people will remember.

One of Two (AoA)

2008-11-05T05:06:00.002-05:00

Ally and I grew up without a mother.

*** *** ***

"We're the bad people, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"We killed Mama."

"Yeah. We killed her."

"That makes us murderers, right?"

"We're the bad people."

"How do we make it right?"

"We can't let anyone know."

"No one will know."

"Papa would be mad if we said it."

"Papa doesn't blame us. He blames himself."

"Nii-chan blames Papa, too."

"Nii-chan would hate us if he knew it was our fault."

"Nii-chan already hates us. I think he knows deep down that it's our fault."

"Yes, Nii-chan hates us.... why doesn't Papa hate us?"

"He hates us, too. He hates us, but he loves us too, because we remind him of Mama."

*** *** ***

Nii-chan hated Papa. He didn't say so out loud, but my first memory of him was of his silhouette by the fireplace, small and hunched, the lines of his back and his dark, almost black hair falling into his face, his small hands balled up. We couldn't have been more than three or four at the time, which means Nii-chan must have been almost ten. He never said so, but his eyes turned almost as black as coal whenever they looked at Papa, and at that moment, his form framed against the smoldering embers of the fire in late winter--I knew.

Our older brother hated our father.

Papa told us that Ally and I were once one person, one flesh and one body, and that the Goddess split us into two. "Why, Papa?" Ally asked him, and he held us closer.

"So you would never be alone."

This made sense to me. I had Ally; she had me. We were never alone, and rarely apart. There's no need to ever be truly lonely. I had someone who shared my flesh, my mind, my feelings, my thoughts, my secret fears and desires, my hates and loves. Ally and I didn't want to be individuals. We had small tics that made us slightly different from one another, but at the deepest level, we chose to be the same. We wanted to be one person, separated into two bodies. We didn't want to have to feel that loneliness that divides all people in their souls. Papa called it "Emptiness."

I had Ally to fill the Emptiness. She had me. We had each other.

Nii-chan didn't have anybody. I felt sorry for Nii-chan. But, looking at him made me afraid.

It seemed impossible to me to love anyone but Ally. I loved Papa to distraction, but there was always a part of him that held itself away from us; I think it hurt him a little to look at us, to hold us, to hug us or tell us that he loved us. It must hurt, I thought; it hurts Papa to look at us and see Mama in our eyes. And then the shame would begin again, the intense shame of We killed Mama!

From the moment I became conscious of Nii-chan's hatred for Papa, I realized that he should REALLY hate me and Ally. We were the bad people.

It made sense. Everyone who knew hates us. That's why we were made two. We had each other. We didn't have anybody else.

The Goddess made us two because we have no one else, and never will.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Where Two Paths Diverge (Age of Adventurers)

2008-11-04T06:31:00.003-05:00

I spent less and less time at home after they were born. It didn't help that I would always associate their first day of life with her last. They won't ever remember her, they never got to meet her. I do. I remember cold morning at home while he was still out adventuring. I remember snuggling under the blankets while she'd read to me. I remember the way she would pronounce her R's. I remember all of it.

I don't blame him. He had to suddenly take over being the mom in a sense. He didn't know her practicality. He didn't know just how warm to make hot chocolate in the winter. He didn't know what stories were my favorite. He didn't know how to be her. When Ceecee and Ally were born, it changed everything. He had to give up being an adventurer. She had to give up being our mom. I gave up being his son.

He showered them with attention. I would say I was going out and he would just nod and look at me, like he expected something from me. I would stay out late and come home and he'd have them tucked under his arms, dozing wherever he was sitting. He was a wonderful father for them. He would always read to them when they were old enough to enjoy the stories. He would tell them tales of his days as an adventurer, stories of massive dragons and terrible demons and the sort of stuff that used to exist. He was their dad. Their Papa.

I remember the look he gave me when I came home with the topknot. The only two types of people who would wear their hair up like that were the wannabes and the Tenshodo. He looked at me like... Like he was disappointed in me. That's fine. It only took him years to finally show it. I don't think he ever wanted me around. I wasn't his daughter. I wasn't his favorite. After Mom died things were never the same between me and him.

I remember back during our last Horror Festival I was dressed like my dad, the monster-slayer. I had on a replica Aketon for Bastok with a toy greataxe and everything. I was going to grow up to be just like my dad...

I don't need to be like him. I don't need the sanction of a nation to be somebody. I don't need to follow in his footsteps to change the world. I'm learning my own way in Bastok, and it has nothing to do with being a part of the Republic. Let him take care of his daughters. Let him be their Papa. I have my own family, and they actually care about me.

Introducing the Age of Adventurers Campaign!

2008-11-04T05:48:00.002-05:00

Yes, that's right, an all-new optional campaign for those looking to shake up the Nightblades RP.

It is now forty years after the end of the Crystal War. The Age of Adventurers has begun, and Vana'diel is changing. Bastok, Windurst, and San d'Oria have all drastically reduced their armed forces and are truly at peace; adventurers campaign for the three nations in organized tourneys and the Conquest tallies as a means of keeping combat skills sharp and the fiend populations under control. With the deaths of the Archduke and his brother, Jeuno has fallen into decline, and 5 years after their death, closed their doors to adventurers. The Empire of the Near East, Aht Urhgan, has come into ascendancy with a new era of peace and prosperity, and Imperial Whitegate has doubled in size as it has become the new financial center of the world. Tavnazia and the Kingdom of Ephramad flourish as small independent kingdoms, and the Tenshodo has splintered apart with the deaths of Aldo and Gilgamesh.

Mai Ikari wanders Vana'diel for unknown purposes, her son striking out on his own to control the avatars that used his father as their puppet. Lyall's children take divergent paths: his twin daughters turning to each other, even as his son lashes out at the chaotic world around him. The young man Sparhawk guided to adulthood finds his answers in Ephramad, hating the "fate" that Sparhawk so strongly believed in and instead giving his life over to luck; and a young Scholar believes she has finally solved the riddle of how to open the way to the world of the gods, and what awaits them there.

What perils await our new heroes in this... the Age of Adventurers? *dramatic music* Let me or Lyall know if you have a concept you want to play for this campaign.

~Soli~

A New Perspective (Age of Adventurers)

2008-11-04T05:00:00.004-05:00

Things change a lot in a couple of decades. Tsurai says that we used to be spread all over the world, working out of the Far East. Its the stuff legends are made from, an invincible band of thieves and brigands who stalked treasure the world over, smuggling goods and taking what they wanted while cradled in the foot of the also-invincible Duchy. Its a great story but its just that. A story.

If we DID use to be an uncatchable band of thieves we lost something when Aldo passed. The older guys insist we used to actually run business out of this port. They say that, since the demilitarization of Bastok, these docks are no longer used for industry. Bastok actually closed the docks down years ago but that never stopped us, did it? The longtime members state that to be an Iron Musketeer now all you need to do is fit into the armor, and in the same breath go on about how it used to mean something to elude them.

We're not just a band of thieves. We're not just the criminals we're made out to be. Sure, not everyone here is a saint but there are skills you can learn here you can't learn anywhere else. Not everyone wants to know how to polish a set of platemail or guard a door. I've learned how to do a lot of things in my time here and Tsurai says I'll go far if I stick with it. I think I will. My sisters can sign up with the Bastokan Legions and learn to be adventurers proper, I'll do things off the beaten path. One day I'll disappear from here and go learn my craft in Norg with the Ephramadians.

Who needs to be an adventurer to have adventures?

Full Moon 98%

2008-09-10T01:45:00.002-04:00

The one thing he missed most about being under the stars was the pleasant twinkle of starlight that would illuminate the world below. Couped up in his mog house there were no real windows so the only light came from the fireplace or any of the candles that had been lit around the bed. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, it was that he didn't want to. She had only just returned afterall.

She was sleeping between him and the wall, nestled between the sheets of the bed and the blanket. He gazed at her while and couldn't help himself from smiling. Even in her sleep she was beautiful and when she exhaled he could hear her purring. He caught himself staring and smiling and wondered what she was dreaming of.

"I'm not as strong as I used to be... I'll need you to protect me, you know..."

The day had flipped so quickly, from the unease of setting out from Whitegate to the fear in the actual testing grounds. The air there didn't settle well with the gnole and Lyall shivered trying to be rid of that encroaching feeling on his chest. They had gambled with the devils and for the most part had come out with the lion's share of the winnings...

Lyall sighed, the sheet draped around his waist. He ran a tired hand through his hair and tried to shake the images of Briddy's last moments from his head. His mind wondered where she was, what was happening to her... Slipping from the bed he paced restlessly around his mog house, avoiding furniture absentmindedly.

She had chosen this for them all. Briddy's largest flaw was that she loved everyone, she wanted everyone happy even at the cost of herself. He remembered back in Buburimu, when-

Loo stirred. Lyall froze, turning to her and hoping she wouldn't wake. She would worry why he was up, she would worry and he didn't want her to. This was their second chance and it came because Briddy had loved them both and wanted them to be happy. Briddy had offered up herself in exchange for Loo. It was her gift to them.

The mithra rolled over and draped an arm where Lyall should have been and for a moment her face seemed distraught. The moment passed and she returned to peaceful slumber, purring all the same. Lyall's eyes traced her body and what wasn't covered by the cloth, admiring her. She had been in top form today even if she felt she wasn't as strong as she was. She was still strong. She was still capable. She was still Loo.

It warmed him through and through that she was back. Here she was, the love of his life, the one who understood and embraced the gnole and the one who brought him to come to understand it himself. She was all he could ask for in a partner and tonight they had agreed to follow through the plans they made before... Before she went away. They had reunited, she had returned.

On their last night they had lain together, truly in love with one another despite the unseen looming horror that would engulf them the following afternoon. Tonight, on their first night, they had lain together, truly in love.

"Is this a beginning then...?

The bards across Vana'diel would tell stories for eternity of the mithra who loved a gnole-blooded and how not even death or the Underworld would keep them apart.

From the Desk of the Viceroy of Funny Shit At NBcon

2008-09-07T00:29:00.003-04:00

1) Anytime Matric or Lyall make a vomiting noise, it means one of them came.

2) The number of pancakes is proportional to the number of terabytes of pr0n Mai has on a portable HD.

3) If Lyall's hands aren't visible, he's beating off.

4) If Lyall's hands are visible, he's trying to get Ramp to beat him off.

5) When Tsiife says "Naked time" he means it.

6) When Tsiife says "Naked time" he really fucking means it. Seriously, don't look because you'll see his dick.

7) There is always a new dick joke popping up.

8) Someone is always erect.

9) Your mom is a faggot.

10) Ketchup bottles are stand-ins for penises.

11) Matric really is that god damned dreamy.

Feel free to add whatever I missed. This is hard (like my penis) when I'm not in conversation. (Also like my penis.)

NBcon Logistics

2008-08-25T13:14:00.002-04:00

Hi guys,

As you all are likely aware, NBcon is right around the corner! I figured I'd go over the logistics with everyone so we're all on the same page.

Wednesday, I'm planning on driving up to Mai's place, since he has Wednesday off from school. I'm going to stay with him Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning at around 2 a.m., we're going to head off to JFK Airport.

Leg 1: Mai's House to JFK Airport: 3 hours 15 minutes
Tsiife and Seik arrive around 6:30, almost simultaneously. We should have time for some breakfast at the airport before we leave!

Leg 2: JFK Airport to Lyall's House: 2 hours, 4 minutes
Tsiife and Seik will split up into my and Mai's cars, and we'll head out to Philly. Lyall's family lives on a rather cramped one-way street so parking might be.... iffy D: But we shouldn't be there long before....

Leg 3: Lyall's House to Scranton Airport: 2 hours, 8 minutes
I'll add Lyall to my car and off we go to pick up Rampy. Rampy's plane lands at 12:55 p.m. so I don't wanna keep him waiting too long x.x I know it'll be a lonely feeling if he has to sit there and wait by himself. Of course, we also only have the vaguest idea of what Rampy looks like D: I hope he can find us at the airport.... just look for the crowd of geeks Rampy!

Leg 4: Scranton Airport to the Hotel: 59 minutes
The final leg is mostly state highways and backroads. I have the feeling it'll be winding up into the mountains so we should enjoy the drive and the view!

Total travel time should be only about 8 hours, but what with waiting in airports I'm guessing it'll be more like 10. Hopefully, we'll be to the hotel by mid-afternoon and get the room set up to our liking.

Of course if there are any delays, hitches, snafus, problems, issues, concerns, or bitches, spam-call my phone into oblivion D: I want to hear it all, preferably BEFORE it fucks up our meeting ^^ Let's make this the biggest and best NBcon yet! ;P

~Soli~

Happy Birthday Mai!

2008-08-20T00:18:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday Mai! Here's your cake...

The Melancholy of Mai Ikari

2008-08-16T06:50:00.003-04:00

Lol This was a fun to draw.

Indestructible, part 3

2008-08-13T22:23:00.003-04:00

((Last part.... couldn't stop writing once I started x.x;;))

"Mai, guard Seik.... we can't have our precious flower taken from us, now, can we?" Alberic smirked at Sparhawk, slinging the sheathed sword onto his shoulder. Unwillingly, yet unable to resist the mastery in his voice, Mai backed up to stand beneath Seik, her eyes fixed on the black-armored form before them.

Sparhawk said nothing, asked nothing. He simply reached onto the sheath in his back and drew the long, black-bladed great sword, the steely rasp of the finely tempered steel leaving its scabbard seemed to echo through the tomb, and Alberic laughed in delight. "Good, that's good, Anakha!" he shouted joyfully, and brandished the sword in his arms as if it were drawn. "Now, let's fight!"

There was no trace of remorse or hesitation on Sparhawk's face; it was as if it were carved in stone, and when he charged at Alberic, his blade crackled with lightning as he swung it around in a powerful stroke. Alberic looked incredulous, delightedly so, as if this were more than he could have possibly expected; he parried Sparhawk's first, mighty swing with a swing of his own, the two men wielding the swords with brutal skill. Even as they clashed physically, Pandion-tempered steel meeting the ornate scabbard of Lightbringer again and again, the magical battle was just as intense, black lightning arcing from Sparhawk's hands and flame bursting from Alberic's maw. Sparhawk wasted no energy on words, and his flat, intense expression did not change one bit.

Lightbringer's sheath was not made for intense combat, and the brilliant blade within was exposed with each chop of Sparhawk's heavy black blade. Glittering white light shone forth from the cuts, and Alberic took full advantage, dazing Sparhawk with the light gleaming from the flat of the blade. Mai occasionally twitched as if to run to Alberic whenever Sparhawk's attacks came too close, but Alberic shook off the magical attacks impatiently. Fused with Bahamut, he was nearly the embodiment of the avatar, and Sparhawk's prodigious skill was not enough to surpass that.

Alberic blasted flame into Sparhawk's face, and he staggered back, scraping a gauntleted fist against his eyes, and Alberic launched himself at Sparhawk, driving his shoulder into the smaller man with a thrust of his wings. Sparhawk fell heavily to his knees, whipping a dagger out from his boot and driving it into Alberic's knee; the dragonkin screamed, his head whipping back, and
Mai could hold herself back no longer, charging forward and leaping at Sparhawk, screaming herself, made wild by Alberic's pain. Sparhawk lurched out of the way, rolling clumsily in his armor, lashing out at Mai with magic, and she fell heavily to the ground, bound to the spot--but her attack had diverted Sparhawk's attention enough that Alberic twirled on his good leg and ripped off Lightbringer's scabbard, burying the glowing blade into Sparhawk's back.

Sparhawk stiffened, looking down at the glowing, legendary blade sticking from his chest. Alberic laughed and laughed, a hysterical sound that caused Seik to stir on the beam above. "HAHAHAHAHA! Yes, YES! Die, Anakha! Die--and let me take your place!" Alberic extended a hand at Sparhawk as he fell heavily to his face. "Give me your power, give me your freedom! Let me be unbound from destiny as you are!!"

"Alberic!" Mai called weakly, still struggling against the Bind spell holding her in place, but her cry was drowned out by the scream of horror and anguish above them. "SPARHAWK!!!!" Seik was staring down at them as if her entire world was ending, struggling feebly against her bonds, staring down at Sparhawk with Lightbringer through his heart. Blood gushed from Sparhawk's body, pouring out onto the grass, dripping from crevices in his black armor.

Alberic turned away, his expression satisfied and exhausted, limping and dragging his bad leg. But a faint rattle from behind him made him turn, raising an eyebrow, a trail of blood winding down his cheek from a cut in his black hair.

Sparhawk was slowly pushing himself back up, his mail fists pushed into the muddy ground beneath him. "Are you still trying to fight?" Alberic said, his tone a mixture of amusement and amazement. "But you've lost. -I- am Anakha now."

Mai and Seik caught their breaths as Sparhawk reached back around himself and slowly pulled Lightbrighter from his body. Blood flowed even more freely from the wound, but he came to his feet, his eyes fixed implacably on Alberic, and he raised the legendary sword, taking up his black blade with the other. Alberic took a step back, dumbfounded. "But... but how... this is impossible!! You are DEAD!"

Sparhawk charged at Alberic, the weakness of his wounds seeming to fall away as if they had never happened, and whirled both immense blades at Alberic, driving him back; the black blade sheared off one of Alberic's twisted horns, and it went flying, impaling itself into the earth; the other chopped into Alberic's arm, and he tossed his head back like a wounded dragon, breathing flame, but Sparhawk blocked it with the flat of Lightbringer's radiant blade; Mai tried to run to Alberic, but the Bind spell held her fast, and she could do nothing but watch in horror as Sparhawk drove Alberic to the base of the beam holding Seik, and for the first time, Sparhawk spoke.

"Now, I end this."

He reared back, and Alberic lunged, but Sparhawk's arms were faster, burying both swords deep into Alberic, pinning him to the base of the beam, Lightbringer in his chest and the black sword in his belly. Alberic did not even scream, staring up at the star-filled sky as if incomprehending; blood poured from his unresisting lips and he grinned faintly, unseeing. Sparhawk straightened, looking at Alberic pitilessly, the flow of blood from his armor having ceased; Alberic slowly lowered his gaze to meet Anakha's, and understanding dawned within them. "I see..." he whispered, his voice strangled, and a slow rattle filled his throat. "A... Anakha is...."

Then, his head sagged back against the beam, and his body turned into light and dissipated into the night.

Indestructible, part 2

2008-08-13T22:00:00.003-04:00

((Yeah, I know I just posted part 1.... sue me >.>))

"What have you done, Alby...." Mai's voice noticeably shook as she looked up at Seik.

Alberic turned, the large sheathed sword in his arms gleaming faintly in the moonlight. His tail curled slightly as it swayed back and forth, serpentine and sinewy, and the twisted horns on his head cast long shadows over his mottled, black-scaled face. "He will come. He will have to." His voice dropped to a caressing murmur, and he stroked Mai under the chin, nibbling on the tip of one of her ears. "And then, we'll see who destiny favors."

Seik was lashed to a crossbeam above them, unconscious, her head sagging and her arms outspread. Alberic had wound her entire body in wire; the tomb--King Ranperre's Tomb--was awash in moonlight, and Alberic laughed and laughed. "It is not I who makes you suffer, Seik!" he screamed at the sky, his wings flung wide. "It is FATE! Fate is the enemy here! Adelbert, fate is what separates us, what punishes us!"

The beast paced around the tomb, occasionally perching on the beam to which Seik was lashed, curling his arms tighter around the sword. He hummed or sang; he laughed often, his eyes filled with an indescribable joy, with unbreakable resolve, with insanity, with hatred; he nuzzled Seik's face, licking it, and grinned down at Mai as if daring her to stop him; he spread his wings and soared above it all, glorying in his freedom, but always descended to earth again, snarling and glowering around him, seeking his enemy, impatient and hateful. Mai stood there as if rooted, staring at Alberic, mesmerized and repelled, unable to look away. He was beautiful in this form, beautiful and terrifying, but the curse--the obsession--the love that bound them kept her here, helpless to do anything but serve him, helpless to stop him from devouring himself with his own madness.

"What have you done, Alby...." Mai raised her eyes to Seik once again. "She's going to die...."

"No!" He whirled on her as if summoned, grasping her around the throat, stroking her like a restive kitten, purring, his wings enfolding them. "No. She will not die. Either she or you or both--you will bear my child, Mai. I might kill her. I might not. But either way, we will free when it ends. Either way, destiny will break tonight. He will come. He HAS to come. I am waiting for him.... and when he comes, I will kill him and take his place."

Seik coughed, lost in her enchanted sleep, blood trickling from her lips. Mai turned from Alberic with a choked sob. Alberic laughed, drawing his tongue up her face from her chin to the corner of her eye, where tears were already welling. "I think I love that face the most, Mai...." he whispered.

A sound from behind them, a snapping twig, made them both whirl, and Alberic crowed in delight, sweeping air with his wings. Sparhawk was there, in black armor, his implacable eyes fixed upon them.

Indestructible, part 1

2008-08-13T18:32:00.002-04:00

Alberic had not been home for two weeks.

-----

They won't stop bleeding.

He's gone, now. I think I'm free, in a way, but it's a horrible feeling. A part of me is free that was being held back. And as I look at it, I feel more and more horrified. I'm trapped by destiny.

I know my time is shorter and shorter. Once he comes into this world, I will be gone. I saw it myself, over and over. My son. My conquerer.

That's how destiny works, isn't it? You're trapped. There's no way out, until you die. And then... and then....

I don't deserve to be delivered. I knew what I was getting into. It's many years beyond my time. But I'm so scared. I don't want to die. I'm still a coward. Death frightens me. Will I just stop? Does that mean I'll fade away and--that there will be no "me" anymore? Then, it'll be just as if there was never any "me" at all.

But no. That's why he's coming, isn't it? So there is "me" left behind.

But he's not me. He's himself. He shouldn't be saddled with my legacy. A coward's legacy. A failure's legacy. A failure of a friend, of a husband, of a father--nothing but a cursed Prophet that never should have allowed anyone near.

But I had to let them near. Because without them, I would die, and I'm scared to die. Please. I'm scared to die.

I'm trapped by destiny. It's coming closer all the time. I can hear it. I can feel it. But aren't I the guy who makes a living changing destiny? Isn't there a way I can avoid this? Isn't there some sort of thing I can do to change how things will go? Can the magician pull one more rarab out of his hat, change fate one last time?

Of course there is a way. I am a coward. I'm desperate. I'll do anything at all. I don't want to share my life anymore. I don't want to be afraid anymore.

The answer was in front of me all the time. All I have to do is change destiny. I have the right. After all, who on Vana'diel is stronger than me? And she'll be waiting for me, when it's done. She'll be happy. Because she would be fine, even if I turned into a monster, as long as I did not vanish.

I don't care who I have to kill. I don't care what I have to throw away. I won't vanish. I will not let myself die. I don't care about forgiveness anymore. If I decide he needs to die, then he will die.

-----

Seikatsu had been missing one week.

The Coward

2008-08-08T04:28:00.002-04:00

A bright flash filled the night sky and the heavens seemed to break apart; water pouring downwards as thunder rolled off towards the distant mountains. He'd seen this place before, it was familiar, and yet so alien. Small eyes drifted upwards from all around, from cracks and fissures in the earth. There was something ominous about them, but he felt no fear. No, he felt enlightened, felt compelled to follow their gazes. Steeling himself for what he might see, he licked his lips and turned his face skyward. Large drops of water crashed against his bare forehead, mixing with the dirt and grime that had collected upon him from his travels. The mixture left a sour taste in his mouth, but he ignored it, his jaw slacked already.

For overhead was the most awe-inspiring and terrifying scene he'd ever seen. A wyvern of incomparable size loomed above him, wheeling just below the cloudline.

Frantically, the Tarutaru glanced about, looking for something; anything! to stop this menace or elude it if nothing else. Nothing offered itself up though, nothing for the sacrifice. Even the small eyes had winked shut, returning to the darkness wence they had come.
"Veovis..." a voice whispered from all around him, and at once he knew it to be the wyvern speaking.

"Wha...?" The Taru asked the darkness around him. It seemed to be closing in.

"Veovis.... you are a coward.." the thing spat, cackling as it descended downwards. The Gods seemed to answer its insult, sending several crackles of lightning followed by another peal of thunder, then the rain worsened. "You flee your past... You flee your friends..your enemies.. your world.. You have shut yourself away beyond the realm of Man, into the Canyons north of your true home.. You are a coward," the wyvern then drew back and opened its tooth-filled maw. It went on speaking, though its mouth no longer moved. "How far will you run Coward? To the ends of Vana'diel? No sea can carry you far enough from the truth."

Veovis grabbed at his over-sized ears and tugged them down, trying to drown out the horrid sound of the creature. Its voice was loud, booming from all sides, and sounded as if many voices spoke at once, a terrible cacophany of sound.

"Im.. I'm no coward.." the white mage managed to stammer, only to be answered by a snarl from the beast.

"A coward -and- a liar! You've run as far as you can..."

He closed his eyes then, as whispers of other voices crushed in around him. Dozens of them it sounded like, and try though he might he couldnt drown them out.

Words of hope, of praise, of friendship. Words cast in the world of Light; promises of love and longevity, of togetherness eternal. The very words that had lead him to this realm of despair.
"They've all abandoned you.." the beast laughed, the sound piercing through the rest of the voices, the memories, the thoughts, the hopes and dreams. "And now youre alone, because you could not help them. Because you were afraid!"

"I was afraid.." he mutely repeated the words. "I've always... been afraid.."

"You always will be." The Wyvern affirmed. "For you are a coward, and such is the cowards lot."

"Im a coward.." the meek taru quietly stated, as if admitting it to himself for the first time. How untrue that was though; he'd admitted it a thousand times over. In his months of seperation from society he'd claimed that everything had been his fault, due to his fraility and cowardice. Even when he'd found his friends again, he never allowed himself to draw too close out of his own fear of letting them down, just as he'd done to himself. He'd told them all he was to set upon a journey of self-discovery. And what a lie that had been, he had only crawled back under his rock, deep within the canyons of Tahrongi.

"You know of what I speak," there was thunder again, more rain. The hilltops were soaked, the earth sliding under his feet as the rain saturated deeper and deeper. He had to stumble to catch himself. He turned sharply to peer down towards the canyon, and to his shock he saw nothingness below him. The earth fell away to an infinite abyss. All around him was this abyss. "You know it is the truth. The truth you run from. That you are a coward. You couldnt save your parents. You couldnt help your friends. They've forgotten you by now, you know.."

"Shut up!" Veovis cried out, releasing his ears and snapping an angered gaze upwards. The beast chuckled.

"Hit a nerve, did I? It matters little.." It took to wing again, flapping up huge gusts of wind as it moved skyward. Veovis was now standing on a small island in the middle of absolute darkness. Choking darkness, darkness that clung to him and restricted his movements.

"You ran... you ran away.. and hid yourself, too. They must think you dead, they never came to seek you, did they?" It laughed again, then turned that maw back towards the healer. "But you cant run anymore.. theres nowhere left to run..."

As it spoke, the darkness swarmed in around him, thousands of hands grabbing at him, tugging him towards that inexplicable darkness. "No!" He cried, struggling as hard as he could, but to no avail. "No...!" he said, or tried to, but found his breath cut short. The very last thing he saw was that terrible maw closing down around him.

And then there was warmth. Sun beams filtered in around him through cracks in the rock, bathing his world in light. Birds quietly chirped somewhere in the distance. Some bug made a high-pitched ringing sound as it called for its mate. The wind blew gently, blowing the sweet scent of plants in bloom far to the south on the grasslands of the Sarutabaruta. He was safe, there was no wyvern, no darkness, no voices.

With a sigh, he tossed his blanket aside and stared up at the cracks, into the sunlight. He wasnt dirty as he had been when they'd first found him; he knew of a freshwater underground spring he used to bathe in, having no fear of being seen in this place of the wilds. He had lost his shame the moment he'd removed his priestly vestments. Altana was with him, or so he believed, and She always would be, but his days with the church had long since passed. The debacle that had cost him his role as Bishop had scarred him and his name deeply enough that he was shunned in nearly all churches of the land.

"This is the only place scumaru like me should be allowed to residey-widey," he muttered, cursing his native tongue at the same time. "So close to home.. yet so far.. I can even smell it," he went on, ears drooping at the thought. How he longed to be beneath the banners of Windurst again. To hear the teachings at the various schools of thought and magic. To stand proudly before the Star Sibyl, as one of her people. And how his stomach growled as he thought of the delicious Rolanberry pies the cooking guild was famous for. Chuckling despite himself, he recalled some distant memory of being a hotshot, walking into the cooking guild after a particularily difficult mission, boasting of this and that and being aptly rewarded with 'as many pies as he could carry'. When was the last time he'd even tasted pie?

Chewing idly on what was left of last nights meager stew, he kicked his small foot over the dying fire, smothering the last of its embers.

He rose quickly and started for the entrance of the cave, wrought now with the memories of his friends. Where had their journey taken them, he wondered. What would it had been like if he were brave enough to make it with them? What adventures could they have seen? All unknown forever, all for fear. Fear of failure. Of loss. Of pain. Of living.

"I pray every day that I will see you again my friends.." said the white mage softly, fingers tracing the ampulla that had been made for him by his dearest of friends, and even then the thought of her brought up a lump in his throat and caused his eyes to go a bit misty. That was perhaps the one loss that hurt him the most profoundly. Truly, he'd loved all he'd journeyed with. But he loved one above the others, one who had sealed herself forever within the chambers of his heart. One who would forever be perfect in his eyes, no matter how imperfect he may be. "I pray hardest," he continued in the same soft voice, still toying with the stones linked together by simple string, "that I will see you again Solitia..and perhaps I will...one day when i'm stronger.. but until then.."

He sighed and hung the beads back about his neck beside his phial and stepped out into the bright sunlight. It was just after midday, he figured, by the heat of the sun. Several Dhalmel idly lurched about in the distance.

"Until then.. I'm just a coward."

Summerfest Inspired

2008-08-04T09:15:00.001-04:00

It was a blessed day, one right out of the novels that Tsiife no doubt had in her bag. That is to say the weather was warm and the sky bright on the sunny shores of Purgonorgo Isle. The day was almost spontaneous in its gathering; Once the group realized they all had new swimsuits and hadn't had a proper day at the beach it was fairly obvious what had to happen next.

The whole group of them had gathered aboard the Manaclipper for a festive day in the summer's light. As expected there was a fair amount of humor and a touch of mischief; Caen'ir's withdrawal to unclothe to his swimming trunks was met with a more forceful approach at which point he was tossed into the blue waves. Had it been any deeper the blind man might have drowned, but even his dour mood couldn't last in light of the warmth that day.

There was food prepared by each of them, readied like it was some sort of wedding ceremony. When this was brought up Seikatsu and Sparhawk only smiled and held hands, neither side admitting anything to the other.

Alberic and Mai spent a portion of the day away from the rest only to return some time later at the missus' behest. Alberic loudly declared his conquest of his lady and his sexual exploits on the sand, warning everyone to stay away from the big tree on the other side of the island, and the smooth rocks that people used to tan, and the little patch of soft grass, and the sandbar on the OTHER side of the island, and the...

Lyall and Briddy spent the day splashing about in the waves. It had been a long time since either of them properly enjoyed the ocean and it was a simple bit of friendly sweet fun for them. They, too, were mum on the details of the big day.

Caen'ir spent most of the day lounging on the beach and letting the waves creep along his ankles. He held a book to his chest and seemed lost in thought for most of it. That, or he was trying to drown out Tsiife's colorful description of the newest piece of literary prestige she had happened across.

The sun set and the couples clung together and the rest all enjoyed the beautiful view. Once it was dark enough there were fireworks set off for no real reason aside to use them and mark the occasion. In all it was a lovely day on the beach followed by a wonderful night out under the stars. And Mai didn't have to punch anyone except Alberic playfully, and it was a perfect day in Vana'diel.

With Love

2008-07-15T19:33:00.003-04:00

"Ouch-!"

Seik brought her finger to her mouth again, sewing was so much easier than this. Lures were strange and difficult to make, and the bat fang hook on them weren't making things any more pleasant for her fingers. She looked over at a folded Heko Obi by her side on the bed, then to her other side at a box with her materials in it. The guild had said, when she could make a decent lure then they would look at her other work and see if she could advance in ranks within the guild. The small bat fangs were very sharp and hard to work with and she had nearly had one of the edges go straight through her thumb earlier when Mel had come home unexpectedly.

But to her this was all worth it. It didn't matter to her how many times she jabbed her fingers making theses things, or how many other things after these she had to make. Sparhawk had made something special for her and she wanted to show the same drive for him. To make something worthy for him, something special, something she worked hard at. Seik examined her work on the current lure, this one was better than her last one but wasn't quite right. She sighed and dropped it into a small pile by the book shelf, the lures seemed to progress in look the closer they were to the top of the pile. She fished through her material box again and started to work on the next lure.

"Put that stuff down for a while and have something to eat, Kupo. You've been at it for hours."

Mel looked over at her from the small table while setting two bowls of soup down. She seemed annoyed, normally she would only make a late afternoon lunch for herself because Seik was out of the house most of the time. Seik looked over her shoulder a moment.

"Sorry Mel, I'll be right there. Just gonna finish this last one."

She carefully finished binding the small hook to the frayed Chocobo feather pieces, then stared at her work for a long moment. This one seemed a lot better, more like the ones she had seen on the Auction House. Maybe if they saw this one they would look at the Obi she made now. She took a piece of cloth, wrapping the lure up in it carefully, and put it in her pocket, then used the mostly empty material box to pick up the pile of malformed lures. After making sure there were no stray bat fangs or hooks on the ground, she put the box near the door to take out later, then went over to the table to join Mel. Seik stared down at her food, wondering if she was going to have to make more lures later. Mel looked up, a spoon sticking out of her mouth and an irked expression on her face.

"Quit thinking about it and just eat your soup before it gets cold, Kupo."

----------------------

She finally finished wrapping the tips of some of her fingers in small bandages. The guild had promoted her and now she finally had access to the special items. Her fingers were still stinging, but she made a Cloak to turn in and was able to get the crystal she needed. Her eyes went from her fingertips to her left ring finger. It was worth it. Seik smiled to herself, the ring on her finger making her feel happy and warm. The stinging in her fingers all but seemed to disappear. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Cyclone crystal and a small ring, which several days before she thought she would never be able to get. She sat down on the floor and set the ring in front of her to make sure she had a steady surface to work with and carefully began to etch her name into its surface.

Mel had left a while ago and the house was quiet, save the sound of the fountain in the back of the room. She held up the ring, checking the carving, placing it back on the floor and making some adjustments. Would he like it? She was pretty sure the size was right, she could still feel his hands on hers, even still see them, and remember how battered they looked. Something else to think about was when she would give him this ring and where she could keep it till then.

Seik pulled a small pocket watch out of her bag and checked the time, it was getting late. She stood up and went over to one of her book shelves and began pushing some of the books aside and checking the spaces between them. Eventually she found what she was looking for which was a small, violet, pull string bag. She carefully put the ring inside it, then looked around the room for a place to put it. There was a box on the small shelf behind the curtain of the bed that would work fine. She climbed on top of the mattress and carefully put the little bag inside the box, but once it was safely inside she stopped a moment.

The bed had always been a sort of giant shelf, or a place to sit. Mel would sleep in it on occasion, but Mel was never home at night nowadays. Seik stared for a long moment at it, then out towards the center of the room where she normally slept. She had always slept on the ground, ever since she was young, but perhaps now it was time for a change. She stepped down from the mattress and began picking up the clutter that covered the sheets. There were a lot of old papers and some books which she set aside, it looked much different when it was clean. Seik pulled out the blanket she and Sparhawk usually slept under from her dresser and draped it over the bed before crawling underneath it.

It was different, but it wasn't bad. Though she wasn't quite used to the softness, it was still pleasant, and there was still plenty of room for Sparhawk. She rolled over to stare at the door, toying with the ring on her finger, her eyes getting heavy. When he got home what would he think when he saw her fingers? If he asked she would show him the ring, she didn't want to make him worry. She honestly couldn't wait to show it to him, though she was still a nervous if it was good enough or not. Seik turned her head to look up where the box was before laying it back down on the pillow, a bit of her hair falling in front of her eyes. She wondered if he would be home soon or in a few hours, but before she could wonder or worry any more, she drifted quietly off to sleep.

There was still so much to think about and do...

Sunset, Waxing 74%

2008-07-08T08:03:00.002-04:00

The little garden had come along nicely. It had every reason to afterall; it was tended to with more than just soil and water. There was a proportionate amount of love and effort used as well. Despite the fact it had only been a short time already the first little spouts of green had peaked out of the ground on that cliff in Buburimu. Lyall had gone there every day since her passing to make sure nothing disturbed them and nothing had.

He took a moment to ponder how much things had changed since his first visit here to look for Loo. Lyall stood like a monument himself against the wavering shafts of light with his arms folded across his chest, his great axe holstered on his back and hanging at the ready. The first time he'd been here, he had just been wearing clothes.

"I... You can wear it. So you don't feel..." he offered as he blushed. Folded neatly in his hands was the stark blue of his national aketon and he was holding it out, almost like presenting the flag of his country to a worthy officer. She smiled when she took it, pulling it over her head.

He shook his head. No, that was wrong, he hadn't given it to her in Buburimu. She had taken the aketon later and he had given it to Briddy, not anyone else. This brought a shy smile to his lips; Did something in him deep down know the whole time? The entire reason he was here was because he had wanted to help her.

"This is a warrior's armor. It was given to those who were worthy of the title and I worked very hard to earn mine," she explained with a calculated patience to his questioning. She had a bit of a proud smirk as she said it, the toil of the exploration to unearth her garb playing inside of her mind.

That was right, this was where she had explained what that mysterious red armor had been. She showed him what a great axe was capable of when it knew its master. He thought she had been teasing.

"Just like everyone else! There's Lyall, the oblivious clod! Let's tease him and mock him and make fun! You're just like everyone else! I am not a fool! I am not an idiot!" He stomped his foot in defiance, turning to point with most of a fist and his eyes enraged.

That had been the gnole, and Lyall smiled to himself. He felt ashamed about it later, yelling at Briddy who had only meant well, but it had done wonders for him in the long run. He'd enrolled with Bastok as an envoy, finally becoming an adventurer like the rest of his new friends. He'd learned what he was capable in combat, and he'd learned that he just might be able to protect her afterall.

With his arms tucked into one another Lyall took another look down at the garden. It was meant for her, and he would continue to tend to it for as long as it needed him to, but there were other things he needed to tend to. This garden would survive because it had been created for Loo by the people who knew her and loved her. The seeds carried with them the hopes of them all, the only lasting gift he could offer for her wherever she was, but there were bigger things now.

If he wanted the other garden to survive, he would need to sow those seeds with patience and love, compassion and caring. The one in Buburimu would survive because it was hardy, the one waiting for him in Bastok would survive because both sides loved the other. Seikatsu had given him the advice to make sure he was doing it for the right reasons, and Lyall would make sure he was, or he wouldn't do it at all.

I know you all are tired of reading my blog entries >.>

2008-07-03T20:39:00.002-04:00

They were finally gone, the dreams that used to bother her so much that her limbs would twitch uncontrollably as she slept and her eyes, half-open, would roll around in silver and red gleams.

Briddy found she missed them a little. Was this what it meant to be whole?

She bent her mind to becoming a good wife. It was something she had tried to be years ago, back when Malchiah had first proposed to her; she was just a girl then, but she had worked faithfully to learn the ways that she could please him. Cooking, cleaning, repairing armor, baking to the best of her ability--for a girl whose parents had owned a bakery, she wasn't half as good at baking as her brother had been, but she dutifully tried. She had learned for Malchiah, but had never really had the opportunity to use those skills until now.

It was Loo, of late, that everyone loved. Briddy realized this a while ago. Loo was the one Tsiife had lusted for so intensely; Loo was the one Lyall had fallen in love with; even Joundi was tempted by Loo's sensuality and grace. Briddy was just... Briddy. She didn't have Loo's self-possession or confidence, and certainly none of her worldliness. Briddy had never given her body to anyone knowingly. She wasn't even sure what to do with a man (or in Tsiife's case, a woman) to give them pleasure. Yet another skill she'd have to learn, she realized. Loo had managed, so maybe she would remember what to do.

Still, what surprised Briddy the most was how distant the concept of "Loo" had become in her mind. Before, there was always a discrete Other: there was Loo, and Briddy. Deeper still lurked something dark, a shadow in her dreams that was unnamed and terrifying, a cruel and forboding presence--Lurian Cree, she knew now. But now, there was just her own thoughts. And yet, it wasn't empty; the loneliness she expected, the sense of being torn that she had after Zal'deana had removed Loo, never materialized. It was almost too easy, too natural.

Was this how things were always meant to be? she wondered. Was this what someone would call destiny? Was the curse really gone for good? It seemed somehow disingenuous to scrub the worn flagstones of Lyall's Mog House, to stoke the fires and wait for his return, and somehow think: This is who I really am.

And then there was the reappearance of Velio.... Her blood ran cold for some reason whenever she saw him. He could call himself whatever name he wished, but she KNEW it was Velio.

I'm not running away anymore, Lyall.... This is what I decided for myself to do, for as long as I can.

Ooooooooooold RP posts.

2008-07-02T04:22:00.003-04:00

All of this dates back to 2005-2006.... and was the original basis for Alby's character. Posted by request.

---------

It is well-known in Bastok that there is a man whom no one approaches, an Elvaan with strange accents with the reputation of being a madman.

His name is Alberich to most, and to some, Alberich I Tavnazia. He seems more or less civil at first, pleasant to be around, despite being even amongst adventurers a shabby and ill-dressed sort. He is Elvaan, with inky-black, unkempt hair and ice-blue eyes, and usually wears a grin or a smirk as his expression of choice; his manners are urbane and polished, as if a king in beggar rags, and his voice bears hints of his native land, one far from the stripped stone of Gustaberg. He is widely seen as harmless; he also openly, and cheerfully, admits to hearing voices in his head and doing as they say.

He claims these orders originate from the terrestrial avatar, Bahamut, King of Dragons. They are as varied as saving the life of a child in danger from a stampeding chocobo, to overthrowing the San d'Orian government via the immediate assassination of every member of the House of d'Oraguille. As such, he is welcome in Bastok, which tends to welcome even the most eccentric so long as their gil speaks for them, and though he is quite obviously insane, most Bastokans seem to think that he is harmless.

However, even such a person was somewhat surprised when he awoke one morning to find a woman in his mirror.

He had just sat up, rumpling his hair lazily and stifling an immense yawn, when he noticed his terrified (and somewhat browbeaten) Moogle cowering in the far corner. "Master!" it squeaked, pointing. "L-l-l-look--"

"Eh?" Alberich mumbled sleepily, his eyes turning to the large mirror that stood opposite his door. "Whattizit.... oh."

His eyes widened in amused disbelief; lurking in the mirror, in the reflection of his darkened rooms, was a Hume woman. Her back was to him, but he could make out her profile; she was garbed as a Red Mage, in the brilliantly red coat and plumed hat thereof, and her face was composed and pale. She was simply standing there, slowly breathing in and out, as if her existence in the mirror's image was as natural as it would have been to exist outside of it. Alberich slid out of bed, wearing only black slacks, and padded barefoot to the mirror. He reached out and gently stroked the mirror's surface. His fingers could not, of course, reach the image inside of it, so his fingers, reflected, merely passed through the shade of the woman. He felt himself grinning in delight.

"She won't speak nor respond to me, Master...." the moogle offered timidly.

Alberich smirked. "Perhaps she will me, then. Lady Mage, be welcome to my house." He bowed slightly to the mirror; the woman's head turned at the sound of his voice. His smile broadened. "So you can hear me then, my Lady?" The woman nodded once in response. "What is your name?"

Her pale pink lips moved, and he could hear her speaking in his mind. "Phio."

Alberich glanced back to his Moogle, who had not reacted to the sound, and sighed gently. Yet another voice had appeared in his head that only he could hear. He turned his eyes back to the vision in the mirror. "My name is Alberich. I am the Prophet of Bahamut." His voice was surprisingly quiet and comforting. He could only imagine that this was a unique situation. "How did you come to be in my mirror, Phio? Are you a spirit, or perhaps a hallucination?"

Phio shifted slightly, turning to look at Alberich through the glass. He could see that her eyes were flat and glazed, as if she were sleepwalking. "I have stopped," her soft voice whispered in his mind. "I am not supposed to exist any longer.... but here I am. I don't remember my life. Only my name.... everything else is like a shadow.... a dream of a dream."

Alberich considered this information, stroking his lightly stubbled chin with long Elvaan fingers. "You said.... stopped...."

The lady nodded slightly. "My body stopped."

"But your spirit remains. Therefore you are not dead." Alberich smiled and placed his palm on the mirror before her image. "You and I have been united for a purpose. And you remain alive for a purpose." His eyes narrowed, but not in anger--more in sight, as if he were looking through her. And then his voice changed, just slightly. "I can see your future, Phio. I can see that you have been blessed by a terrestrial avatar, just as I have." He grinned. "Therefore, you and I are the same."

Phio's eyebrows raised, and for the first time, she seemed moved. "We're.... the same?" A long pause, and then she asked softly. "What is in my future?"

"Resurrection, rebirth, and love," Alberich answered promptly. "Also pain, suffering, and endless sleep without dreaming. The choice is yours, of course, as to which future you will reach toward." When she did not respond, he continued in a very soft voice. "You chose to stop, apparently.... I can help you begin again, Phio. Serve me, and my Lord, and I will unite you with what begins you again. I will give you a purpose again, a Master of your own." His fingers drifted off of the smooth surface of the mirror. "I will give you a reason to want to keep your heart beating, your lungs breathing. If you swear fealty to me."

She hesitated, but then finally nodded, and knelt before him, bending her head to him. "I have no life anymore other than this shadow in the mirror.... You are the only one who can hear my voice.... Giving you my fealty means little to me, so I have nothing to lose right? I swear to serve you in whatever way you require, until you no longer have need of me."

Alberich nodded lightly, grinning, then bent to the mirror, pressing his forehead against the glass. "And in return, I will do my best to bring you full life again." And then he whispered, his lips right by the reflection of her ear. "He's still out there, Phio. He's still alive." Her eyes widened slowly, and for the first time, some life returned to them.

And then the Prophet of Bahamut turned away, yanking a tunic over his head, and stalked purposefully from the room. "I have a LOT of work to do today...." he grinned to himself under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alberich stepped into the Grand Duchy of Jeuno sometime in the dead of night, with the hood of his tunic up to conceal his face. They had no love for wyrm-worshippers here, especially not the particular contact he had in mind. He glanced down at the slip of parchment on which he'd scribbled the girl's address and headed to the Residential Area first, striding purposefully down the long rows of doors until he came to the one he needed. There was dust on the doorstep and naturally, it was locked. The Elvaan braced himself against the back wall and casually kicked the door in with an explosive jar of his foot.

"KuPO!" the alarmed Moogle inside squealed, but Alberich paid him no mind, stepping into the musty Mog House and looking around carelessly. He found precisely what he expected to find--the girl lying in a heap on the floor, looking as if she hadn't been touched in months. He bent to her and turned her over, looking down into the pale face, and extended his hand over her mouth and nose. He felt no breath.

"And yet she lives....?" he mumbled to himself, then looked up at the Moogle almost accusingly. "You left your mistress like this for this long?!"

The Moogle spread its tiny paws defensively. "I--I was afraid to move her!"

"And you didn't tell her family?!" Alberich continued, his voice rising in disbelief.

"She has none! There was an Elvaan, but he stopped coming 'round ages ago--"

"Elvaan?" Alberich picked Phio up carefully in his arms and moved to lie her on the unmade bed, removing her hat and placing it tenderly on the bedpost. On the bedside table, there was a Summerfest moogle drawing of an Elvaan face. He picked it up, smoothing out the creases--apparently it had been rescued from the trash somewhere and lovingly framed. He grins, looking at the picture. "Of course, he would be a redhead." He let the portrait tumble to the ground, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Redhead Samurai.... the East.... damn."

Bending to her body, he smoothed Phio's hair back from her sheet-white face and whispered softly, "I bet sex with you would be incredible for me. Pity it's not going to be like that for us. Until then, sweetie, sleep well. Your knight will be here soon enough."

Alberich leaned back against a wall and pretended not to hear footsteps around the corner; he sensed rather than heard someone leaning against the same wall, just out of sight, their heavy exhaling breath announcing their presence unnecessarily. He grinned. "Glad to see you decided to come. Not often -I- need something from -you- is it Naggy?"

The unseen figure made a most indelicate sound. "What the hell do you want, dragon-fucker? I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

"Easy, easy," Alberich protested in a mock-injured tone. "Did the Duke Vicarious throw you out again, sir? I need information."

"Yes, yes, on some Red Mage? Not much to know about her. Windurstan, did some errands for the duchy on the command of her nation. Skilled, but never rose to a high rank. Mucked around too much with trash, if you get my meaning. No ambition. Disappeared a few months ago, her Moogle said she was still alive but passed out, so not the duchy's problem. Nobody's complained about a smell in the Res area, so we haven't bothered to look for a body yet."

Alberich stroked his chin absently. "Married?"

"Ran around with some Samurai I think. Bad rumors about him though, I think he ditched her. Who cares about the private lives of some adventurer though? All they do is screw and go out and get themselves killed, after all. No permanence or wherewithal."

"Do you have a name for me?"

"'Kincade' I was told." The contact's voice was impatient. "Who gives a shit though?"

Alberich heaved an overdramatic sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. "Naggy, darling. Use your BRAIN, if you still have one. The spirit of this Red Mage is right now crashing in my MIRROR back in Bastok." Dead silence for a moment, then Alberich continued in the same tone. "And it's tied to this Kincade person, a Samurai? At the same time that my own Master is on the move? You must be dead if you don't see that this is the work of--"

"Don't say the name." 'Naggy' warned in a low voice. "Don't say it."

"--Phoenix," Alberich continued doggedly. "Phoenix is on the move, too. The Radiance of the East, at long last. The time of the gods is returning to Vana'diel." He felt himself grinning again, his heart racing. "Promathia stirs in his grave. Al'Taieu shudders and breathes again. The seas in the west and north are boiling; the holy places resonate with their power. The Mithran Sin Hunters scour Vana'diel. The Emptiness lurks. Our curse, our sin.... and now, at last, two of THEM are moving to strike. Bahamut and Phoenix.... I know the Duchy is aware of this, I know you went to the Monarch Linn to speak with Him."

The silence fell again, stretching long. Finally, the contact responds in a low voice, "Damn you and your witchcraft. Yes, I did. I invoked the Pact."

Alberich waved away the "compliment" with his long-fingered hand. "Draw me up an official death notice. Let's see if I can't find a proper.... messenger to send." He smirked. "Who am I--or any of us--to resist the beckonings of Fate? Or in this case.... The coercions?"

A Moogle was waiting nervously for Kincade, hovering above his bed, softly shining with the omnipresent power that the strange beings seemed to present. He seemed browbeaten and terrified of the drunk Samurai as he stumbled into the room, and proferrs the official notice from the Grand Duchy with shaking paws. "F-f-f-f-for you s-s-sir...." he stammered, then promptly disappeared as soon as it was taken.... or if not taken, he drops it on Kincade's foot and vanishes.

On official Duchy parchment, under the seal of the Archduke Vicarious, it reads:

"The Grand Duchy of Jeuno hereby recognizes the expiration of the adventurer known as Phio Piccolo of Windurst this Watersday of N Month, Halfmoon, CE 4623. Notarized by Nag'lomada under the authority of the Archduke Vicarious." Then, in scrawled handwritting underneath, the notation: "Stopped. Found in quarters."

The landing airship was greeted by a large company of Ducal Guards, headed by Wolfgang. There were also two figures in black hoods standing at the back, their hoods marked with the emblem of the Society, the Jeunoan "scientists." Wolfgang stepped forward to the airship ramp, blocking the way with his armored bulk, clutching a scroll in his fist. "Which one of you is Kincade Vouxineu?" he demanded in his deep, coarse voice, his black eyes flickering from face to face. But then, only one really matched the description he was given. His eyes landed on the redhead Elvaan and he snapped the scroll open with a jerk of his gauntleted wrist. "You are hereby summoned to the Ducal Palace. You're not under the liberty to refuse." He raised his gaze to take in Kincade's companions. "The presence of others will not be required," he added blandly.

If the others protested, he raised a hand to silence them, his Ducal Guards arranged behind him. "This is a peaceful summons, for the moment, but I have been authorized to use force if necessary." Wolfgang raised an eyebrow at Kincade. "It seems your presence is being requested at the highest level."

The Guards fell in around Kincade, separating him from the group, and they stalked up the winding stone steps of the tiered city to the highest floor, the lofty, marble area called Ru'Lude. The name and the design were said to be an homage to a loftier place; the layout was in the emblem of the gods, it was rumored, and the Archduke's Palace sat at the most auspicious position. The Guards brought Kincade into the Palace and into a large greeting room, richly appointed. There, perhaps surprisingly, they left him, the two black-robed figures remaining with him and Wolfgang retreating to just outside the door.

The first, smaller figure lowered his hood. He was a fiercely blond Hume, with a strange eye apparatus, and his eyes were sharp and cunning. "I am Nag'lomada," he said curtly by way of greeting. "I am a representative of the Duke Vicarious, who will be informed of all that is said here. He--" He jerked his head to the other hooded figure. "--is Alberich." He smirked slightly. "A scoundrel and madman, but who has his uses."

"Oh Naggy, you flatter me," came an amused retort from inside the hood. His voice was lilted strangely in an accent that most would not recognize. It sounded vaguely foreign.

"Let's not beat around the bush, Kincade," Nag'molada said curtly. "We wouldn't have summoned you otherwise. We have a stopped adventurer on our hands. Her body is still alive, but barely. And ALBERICH here says her ghost is inside his mirror. Apparently, this has something to do with you." Nag'molada leaned forward slightly, studying Kincade's face as if taking in each subtle eyeflick and change of expression from here on out. "Be very careful as to what you say. If this girl's death is your fault--"

"Now, now...." Alberich said soothingly. "The girl isn't dead. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation." But his eyes, too, were fixed intently on Kincade, and his large hands are clamped down tightly on the arms of his chair. However, where Nag'lomada looked intimidating and angry, Alberich's blue eyes glowed with a different emotion from the depths of his hood--excitement. This, to him, is clearly thrilling.

"Tell me, sir...." Alberich said, and here his voice almost thrummed, "... have you heard of Phoenix?"

--

((more old stuff..... this was my first attempt at an Alby!backstory, as y'all can see I revised it some))

I believe this is my 15th attempt at keeping a journal. I'm not very good at remembering to update them, or I lose them, or my Moogle puts them someplace where I can't find them, yadda yadda. But here goes. Attempt number 15. I promise not to do anything too crazy, like update it while Seeing, or while drunk, or while otherwise inebriated.

I guess I should start by introducing myself. I am Alberich I Tavnazia, the nephew of Altedour I Tavnazia, Archduke of the Grand Marquisate of Tavnazia and its surrounds. I am the sole heir to that title, such as it is, since right now dragons roost in the Marquisate proper and Fomors roam our lands by night. Sometimes I think their faces look familiar, when I see them from a distance.

I was only six when my uncle, my parents, and my little sister died. It's the stuff of legend now, how my uncle was found at the bottom of a pile of beastman bodies so high and so wide, yadda yadda. Yeah, he was badass, always was. I admired the man, though I don't remember him all that well. He was always kind, as was Mildaurion. Cardinal Mildaurion, I should say, leader of the Tavnazian Cathedral to the Most Brilliant and Divine Dawn Goddess Altana. I don't remember much about her either, only that she was sainted, and beautiful. She had such gentle hands, but they were always cold, and tingled a little when I touched them. She was a Hume woman with white-blonde hair. My uncle treated her as if she were made of porcelain. She knew things.

My parents didn't make it out. My little sister went down first, when the Marquisate went down and the beastmen came pouring in. Her hand slipped from my mother's, and she turned, and then they were both just gone. My father went after them, but I could see on his face that he already knew. He had to know they were dead before he too died. I used to think, "Please, Goddess, never let me have to outlive my most precious person." More proof that the gods don't give ten damns about this Vana'diel they made, least of all Altana.

I didn't start to see the future til I was 12 or 13. At first it was just weird dreams, weird little flashes in my mind when I would look at someone. I brushed it off for the most part. I talked to Prishe about it and she said I was probably a bit touched in the head, then she laughed and said that all of us survivors were. Mildaurion was gone by then, so it was just me, Prishe, and Despechiaire looking after everyone. Times were tougher back then, we were huddled about fifty or sixty of us in a glorified cave. We barely had enough to eat, we couldn't go outside for fear of monsters. Only Prishe could really fight them. Everyone else was either too young, or too old. Funny how only the old and the children survived the Great War, at least on our cursed islands.

I grew up but damn, I was a brat. I had weird stuff going on in my head, though I hadn't heard voices yet, and I was angry. I hated everything. I hated having to live in a damned hole like a rat. The elders weren't too fond of me either. I wasn't noble or regal or well-mannered like my uncle had been. I was just an angry kid with an axe to grind against the world. I was too much like Prishe, I guess. She and I weren't really close, but I looked up to her all the same. She wouldn't have let anyone fall behind if she could've helped it. She was the only reason any of us were alive to begin with. Life is a gift, though most people (including me at that time) are too stupid to realize it.

I'm obviously not the only person in Vana'diel that can see things, but we all have our different techniques and methods. The Windurstan Star Sibyl, for instance, reads the future from the stars. She gets this power from Fenrir, who is the true Seer among the terrestrial avatars. Hence why Bahamut looks for mortal avatars to use, so he can do the same; he began to look for a human vessel shortly after the War, because Fenrir's powers were waning badly. What he found was some Elvaan punk who'd picked a fight he shouldn't have, a kid barely reaching adulthood, bleeding out his life all over the ground on some godforsaken cliff. He says I'm the strongest Seer he's ever had, though he's only had Kuluu before, and everyone knows how worthless the Kuluu were. (What's with the lanterns?)

I'm no head doctor. All I know is that the future and the past came together at that moment, and the punk kid ceased to be. I lost about, oh, five years of my life then. Don't remember where I was or what I was up to. Just know that when I came out of it, I belonged to Bahamut, body, mind, and soul. I had a big tattoo on my back sealing my powers, and that's when I learned to See properly. I don't even know WHAT I am now, whether monster or man, madman or prophet, angel or demon. I just am. I hear voices. Bahamut's voice. My mother's voice. My father's voice. My sister's voice. And my uncle's voice. Those guys never say anything different though, just the same things.

Now I hear Yuniko's voice, too. She asks me why I didn't save her. She asks me what damned good are powers that you can't use to protect the ones you love. I'd like to know that, too. But like I said before. Life is a gift. Whether you want it or not, there's only so long you can surrender before you find something worth fighting for again. A tiny shred of hope, greater than your own life, a hope for something better, for a tiny piece of happiness, no matter how momentary.

Here's where my... colleagues and I differ. They say that the future is one. That all that has ever been, is now, or ever will be was foreordained long ago. Written there in the stars, in stone, that this will happen, that will happen. I say that's chocobo doodoo. There is no one future. Else I could just See once, write it all down, seal it up and put it in some fountain underneath a city, and I'd be praised forever as some sort of awesome person. (See! I'm making a Windurst joke! I'm so clever!) But it doesn't work that way. Fate is something that surrounds us, that traps us, that encompasses us and holds us in its palm. But how fate is realized is dependent only on our decisions. That's why I can bear the blame for Yuniko's death. I wasn't strong enough to save her. It wasn't fate, or destiny, or the one future that killed her. It was me, for not being able to make the choices that would lead to her being able to live.

I wonder if I'll hear Kieliana's voice in my head too, someday?

Stupid journals.

Note Book 10 Page 51-54

2008-07-02T03:52:00.004-04:00

I keep staring at the ring on my hand. I haven't been able to write for the past few days about this because I just couldn't stop shaking or giggling long enough to do so. But I think I've finally calmed down enough to be able to write this out. I remember everything so vividly...

Over a week ago Alberic told me he had seen Sparhawk in Windurst so I went to look for him. He was heading out of the Manustery when I found him, but he was in a rush and only had time to tell me that he would seem me later. Then I noticed his hands, which were covered in burns and gashes. I tried to follow him and ask what had happened but he told me it was nothing and not to worry about it. But I was worried.

And I stayed worried, for nearly a week. But a few days ago I woke up with a note from him near me. The note told me to go to the top of Parradamo Tor, a place I've wanted to go with him for a long time. I didn't waste any time, got dressed, grabbed my things, and made my way out to Attohwa Chasm. His note said it was urgent and I hurried out there as quickly as I could, but it always takes me nearly a full day's time to make it from the crag of Mea to the top of Parradamo Tor.

By the time I made it to the top the sun was setting, which always make the canyon below glow in an orangish red light. He was standing close to the Cradle of Rebirth, staring into it. When he turned to me he had a very serious look on his face and his hands were even more beat up than the last time I had seen them. I started worrying again, especially after he said that he wanted to be up there with me at least once. He looked out across the canyon for a moment, the sun had set to a certain point that the glow of twilight was all around and you could see the first stars appearing over the horizon, he told me that he could see why I liked it up there.

I hadn't been up there in a long time, hoping that the next time I went up there it would be with him, I guess that hope came true. He turned abruptly back to me, saying he didn't want to beat around the bush. He said the situation with Lillias had given him time to think, especially about the direction that we have been going. He began naming off points saying that I am a distraction to him, that he is too old for me, that I deserved someone more whole and pure, that he didn't know if he would make it back from missions, that he still had a price on his head in the empire... Every point he made he would tick off on his beaten fingers. And every point he made I felt more and more uncomfortable.

He looked back at me, saying that he wasn't right for me and he had always known this. I was afraid he was going to have to leave again, but that wasn't it. He took my hand, saying that he couldn't bear to see me hurt, even for a second. I felt something small being pressed into my palm and he closed my fingers around it. "Nothing would make me happier than if you'd agree to be my wife. Please consider it." The feeling I felt when he said that... I don't know if I can accurately describe. It felt like all my blood rushed down to my feet, my heart was pounding, I'm sure my eyes looked like they could have popped out of my head at any time, everything just felt heavy, and I got weak in the knees. The next thing I knew Sparhawk was holding my arms to keep me from falling over.

When I looked up into his eyes I could feel my own filled with tears. I've never felt so happy... If I had feeling in my legs at that time I think I could have done backflips. I hugged him as tightly as I could, but every onz of my strength was gone and I couldn't help it when I started shaking. I didn't need to consider it, I don't think anything in this world would make me happier, so of course I accepted! I heard him sigh very slightly after I told him yes, I wonder if he was afraid I wouldn't respond or would say no? The only way I would have not responded or not said yes to him is if I had fainted on the spot. But even if I had, I would have told him yes once I woke up.

I was still shaking when we kissed and if he wasn't still been holding me I think I would have collapsed. He was worried that he had shocked me too much, but I told him I was fine and really I was, I was just so excited! The thing he had put in my hand earlier was a lovely little ring with his name etched into it. When he took my hand and put the ring on one of my fingers I saw his hands close up. They looked so battered and thrashed, he had worked so hard to be able to make this ring for me and his poor hands had taken such a beating. He wanted to be able to make something worthy of me, and he did. I love it, I love him, and I always will, no matter what.

I'm getting married! I feel like the happiest girl alive! I wonder how mom reacted when dad proposed to her? Or how Mia reacted when Alberic proposed to her? I feel so giddy, warm, and jittery even days later. I love Sparhawk so much... I just feel so overjoyed!! There are so many things running through my head right now, so many things to think about, things to work on, and I still need to talk to my friends! Though right now, one thing for sure... There is no way what so ever that I'm having a bachelorette party.

Am I forcing my hand to write this down?

2008-06-29T19:43:00.002-04:00

He thought it might be raining, but it was hard to tell, this far under the canopy of Wajaom. His face was already slick and wet, with tears, with blood, with sweat, with the few cool droplets that made their way through the leaves and splattered on his face and back. His throat burned, and he ached to turn his face upward and catch a few drops on his tongue, but he couldn't stop. Not yet.

The tiny body clasped against his chest in a crushing grip seemed to weigh far more than anything else he'd ever carried. One of Danae's arms hung out from his grasp and swayed limply at his side with each lurching step he took. With each rasping breath, he could feel blood surging from his back, and black specks already swam in his vision. This would have to be far enough, even though he could still dimly hear the sound of the bells on the bastion--

The crowd was roaring. It sounded like the ocean. He was dressed like a Pandion here, like one of his fallen brothers, and he fully expected to join them now. Lillias had stacked the deck, as she always did. She didn't like to lose. He could see in the triumphant gleam of her eyes that she felt she had already won. She underestimated him.

Just because he knew he was going to die didn't mean he planned to be the only one to do so. He would carry her with him into the bowels of Hell.

"Today is the day that Sparhawk, the traitor who sold the Empire's secrets to the Ephramadians, finally is put to death for his crimes against her Majesty!" Lillias screamed to the crowd, glorying in their bloodlust.

"Less talk, Lillias," Sparhawk growled, drawing his black Pandion sword from its scabbard on his back in a single powerful movement. "It's time to finally end this."

Lillias laughed, a deep, rich, sensual sound, and drew her veil across her face. "Yes, it is. Kill him." The Immortals and guards around her rushed at him--

He dropped heavily to his knees and began to paw at the moist loam at the base of a tree. It seemed like such a pathetic place. There wouldn't be sunlight here. Danae loved sunny days. She loved to run outside and spin in circles until she threw herself down on the ground, panting and giggling. Then she would just lie in the sun-warmed grass and stare up at the blue sky until Sparhawk had to admonish her not to look too closely at the sun. His breath was catching and faltering in his throat, and his hands that dig ferociously into the loam were trembling with weakness and grief.

She was gone. She really was dead. His little girl, the only person he had ever truly loved. She laid next to the half-dug grave like a doll tossed carelessly aside, her limbs splayed, her dark hair in her face, her skin chalky-white in death. He sobbed openly now, thick, wrenching sobs that made his wounds throb, and with his blood-slick hands he wrapped her tightly in his cured leather cloak, closing her eyes and lowering her into the shallow grave, and it was so poorly done that there was no way he could keep the carrion-eaters from devouring his little girl, and soon enough he'd die on this spot too, and then who would protect h--

Steel clashed on steel, and suddenly he wasn't alone in the pit anymore; Ikari landed next to him in a crash of heavy adaman armor, tearing her sword from its sheath and flinging divine magic into the face of the nearest Immortal; Seik landed cat-like next to him, fighting her way to his side, and they barely had time to glance into each other's eyes before they had to turn back to fighting, but he saw all of the love in his heart reflected in her eyes; even Kohra, who hated him, had vaulted down into the pit and was lashing out at the guards around them, laughing at their death-agony. Lillias' eyes bulged above her veil at the unexpected turn of events, then threw herself at Sparhawk, cutting down friend and foe alike in her hatred, and he did the same, until their blades met.

"Miss me, dear?" he murmured to her, a grin twisting his mouth, and he was no longer aware of anyone else in the pit other than the woman on the other end of their interlocked swords.

They fought then, as passionately and intensely as they had once made love; Sparhawk had never loved her, but he had cared for her, the woman that he thought could bring him some peace, that had once been pure and kind and loving, now reduced to insanity. Spittle flecked her lips and her eyes were filled with ravening madness as she gibbered at him. Seik joined him in battling her, but Lillias was a woman without conscience and lashed out at all of them indiscriminately. But she couldn't win against him--Sparhawk didn't care if he lived or died, so long as he could finally avenge Danae. They drove her back, and Sparhawk wrenched one of Seik's swords from her hands, and as he bent to her, driving the sword into her body, he said--

"So you'rrrrre just going to give up?"

He'd somehow managed to raise a mound of earth over Danae's grave, and he was almost rigid in death himself, his breath shallow and torpid now. He forced his head up at the voice, and saw a Mithra standing nearby, richly armored in the green jerkin of a Ranger with a strung bow in her hand. Her ear flickered, knocking the cap she wore slightly askew. She pointed the tip of the bow at him. "If you're just going to die therrrre, then I'll let you be. But if you still got some fight left in you, then I'll help you brrrrring the person that did that to justice."

His lips, cracked with dryness, framed the word but could not quite voice it. "Justice...."

And the Mithra grinned. "Justice is the only thing in this world that purges sin."

The others vanished in a flare of light. Reinforcements were rushing the pit, clambering up over the fencing. Sparhawk turned away, satisfied, but it was a grim satisfaction. He felt very cold, inside and out, and noticed the soldiers approaching with detachment. "Sparhawk!" Lillias cried from the ground, scrabbling at it, struggling to rise with the sword pinning her to the earth. "Get.... get back here! This isn't finished! I am your destiny!!"

He turned then, looking at her with pitiless eyes, and his face curved into a sneer. "I am Anakha," he said. "I have no destiny."

Letter not meant to be read.

2008-06-27T05:06:00.004-04:00

Kre'oss,

This letter is not meant to come to you, and I will ensure that it does not. At least, not at this time. I think of you always; it is proving near impossible to let you go. Even now, after what I have witnessed and believe you to have done. I do not know any longer if I believe in destiny, as it seems I've interupted what should have been destiny on several occasions. Perhaps it was your destiny to kill Esbet. I just am not sure what to think any longer. Alby seems to think you are not yourself, and are being controled by someone else. I cannot imagine you succumbing to someone else's whims however. Tsiife and Lyall seem to think there has to be a good reason behind why you did it. I do not know where to go to find the answers. At this very moment, none of it seems to matter.

I'm sitting here in my Moghouse, leaning against a bookshelf and seeing you in every corner. I've tried to change it, to remove some of the memories, but I see you still. I sold our bed, the huge dressers, the cupboards. That drawer I opened on that night, to give you my ring, it is gone. Yet I still see that scene when I look in that corner. I see the phantom tub in the spot we shared a bath and a breakfast on that last morning. I see you standing in front of the fire, shivering and afraid. I see you in my arms as we laid together on our bed. The furniture is gone but your phantom is still here. Sometimes I hear the door gently open and close, the way you used to be so careful not to disturb me, but when I turn, I see only an empty doorway.

If I could turn back time, if I could have prevented all the accusations, all the hurtful things I said, perhaps I could have stopped Esbet's death. Perhaps you would have come to me, and welcomed my open arms again. A week to me, twenty years to you. I regret that I sent you back. I wish more than anything that you were still here with me, or that I had gone with you.

I am sorry I have failed you. I am sorry I am not a worthy creature to be part of your life. Forgive me that I still hold on when there is nothing left but mist and shadows.

I love you still,
Kohra

Destiny

2008-06-24T23:56:00.005-04:00

Guest blog!!

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Sparhawk stood in front of the alter, attending to the tiny chores; lighting the candles, wiping away the dust and webs that had accumulated so quickly. He had fitted locks on all the doors. This place had become far to popular for his comfort.

He paused, thinking now of what was left for him to do in this lifetime.

What use am I now?

His brothers were gone, all dead or missing. He was the only one left of his order. He had finally exacted revenge on Lillias, and avenged his daughters death. He realized suddenly, he was free. He didn't need to sculk around in shadows anymore, living a half-life. True, he could probably never return to the empire, but it didn't really matter to him.

So what now? What is there left to do?

There was Seik, of course, his hope, his ray of sunshine. She deserved far better than anything he had to offer, but she was tenatious, refusing to let him go. Maybe, if she loved him so, there was something of worth in him that he simply couldn't see. He had given her so many opportunites to leave, to go off and find something better. But she had chosen him. Who was he to turn that away? Who indeed?

We could have a life together now. There is nothing left chasing me, the demons have all been slain. I owe it to her to return her love and take care of her.

He took one final look around the shadowy place that had been his home for so long, and gave it a silent goodbye. He would not be needed here any longer, his place was out there, by Seik's side.

He climbed the stairs slowly, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. As he locked the door and turned away, towards his new life, he smiled, knowing he might finally be able to find the joy he longed for.

And for the first time in his life, he was terrified...

Tilling

2008-06-24T01:35:00.004-04:00

They had buried her, the two of them, in the garden her friends had made for her earlier. The seeds hadn't had time to sprout yet and that was good, because some of them were disturbed during the process. Tsiife's careful hands helped replace them and Lyall's concern double-checked to be sure that they were taken care of.

In the end they had done exactly what Lyall had wished they could. Loo had a resting place. She could be nestled away on the shelf, cozy with her garden and watching the sea if she so chose to be. Lyall didn't know enough about who she was to be able to give her a more meaningful spot so he chose one important to him, the place where they had met.

Tsiife took a moment to speak. Lyall held back tears until Tsiife couldn't contain hers, and they shared a moment in each others arms mourning a loved one. Tsiife proposed they leave a ptroper headstone for her. Lyall wasn't sure. He didn't know enough about Loo to mark birth. For him, the tiny garden would be enough.

It had been such a long few days for him. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired and red and sore from all the tears. He'd made a promise to Kohra, at any rate, and he intended to keep it. He had meant what he said, though, when he wanted to honor Loo before doing anything resembing moving on. Lyall's head was mostly clouded lately, and he wanted to tread carefully.

Every time he thought about her in a wedding dress he broke down again.

Bonds

2008-06-23T14:11:00.002-04:00

Kohra lay in the bed next to Alby, his arm stretched across Alby's chest. They were both so emotionally drained, all they wanted was sleep, and to be comforted in the knowledge that their friendship still existed.

I can get through this if you don't push me away. I you left me now, I would shatter. As long as you love me, you give me the strength to carry on. How you can think of yourself as a failure, as useless, I don't understand. You are so very strong, it pains me to know how you hate yourself, how sad you are. We love you, Mai and Seik and I. And while the love of a pathetic creature such as myself stands for nothing, the love of those two for you should be worth more than all the gil in this world. I may not deserve it, and I certainly don't understand it, but the knowledge that you love me gives me new hope. I think, although I've lost -him-, I still have you, my treasured friend and I can carry on. Perhaps together we can unravel this mystery, and discover why this has happened.

Kohra took a deep breath, allowing the air to escape his lungs in a shuddering sign as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep.

I'm not here, this isn't happening

2008-06-21T13:02:00.003-04:00

Kohra sat in the bath, in front of the fireplace, shivering. The water had long ago gone cold, the fire had died on the grate. The food Harold had prepared sat beside him on a table, cold and untouched. Kohra didn't notice any of these things. How long he had been like this, he didn't know, or care. Time had ceased to exist for him.

The amulet was on the floor. Kohra stared at it, unseeing. His mind was a loop of recent memories, playing over and over again in random, chaotic order. Caen'ir's hand gently reaching out for Kre'oss' shoulder as they disappeared. Alby standing as a statue, watching the carnage. Esbet's final words to him, her sagging body dying against his chest. Kre'oss on the cliff above, his sword dripping with blood. Esbet encased in ice beside Fei'Yin.

In the back of his mind, barely aware he was doing it, he kept repeating: "I'm not here, this isn't happening."

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Go here for the music I was listening to for this post:
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=7vFaoA7t2RE

Half Moon Waxing 54%

2008-06-20T18:00:00.003-04:00

Lyall woke with a start, first aware that he was face down in the snow nude and second aware of the screaming fire that arced down his back. He screamed, shamelessly.

Weak moonlight bounced off of the snow. It was night time and it was either shortly after his assault or a month after. Aching muscles attempted to lift his body but here was more keeping him restrained than simple exhaustion. Once his breath started to flow in short partially restrained gulps Lyall's freezing digits dug up a thick and heavy length of chain that attached a set of manacles. The hume let out a short gasp of bewilderment, turning over in the snow and simultaneously realizing the snow was red around his midsection. Too much of his body was numb so he kicked his legs to uncover a second chain, a second level to his imprisonment.

The crunch of footsteps, someone approaching. Lyall turned rolled over and faced the moon, her face half-dark in the night. A form blotted it out, the features embraced by the shadows and only a large silhouette glared down. Lyall's face was painted with confusion.

"Do you know why you're here, beast?" The voice belonged to a hume, a large one. It was deep, bellowing. Lyall was more confused than anything and only stared in defiance. There was a sound he recognized as a weapon being unsheathed. A small glint in the moonlight and the dagger was clear.

The large shape loomed down and Lyall got a better look as the moonlight colored his face. It was a hume, a man who could have passed for his late sixties. This didn't make any sense. Had Lyall been tracked and ambushed by this man? His curiosity and wonderment had distracted him and the ache in his muscles and back blinded him. Lyall called out as the dagger bit into him but not because of pain. His muscles were too frozen and numb to send the pain and it only struck him as a distant discomfort. Lyall watched the tip of the knife dig into his skin and something deep inside Lyall snarled.

"I'm going to keep you here, beast, and when you change, I'm going to skin you." The words were foul and full of malice, whispered directly into Lyall's ear. The hume struggled against the chains with futile recklessness. The cold acted as a muscle relaxant and the position left him with no leverage.

For no reason at all Lyall had a visage of that terrible gaping maw from his dream. Something primal inside him cried out. The old man just smirked and backed away, a symbol drawn in Lyall's skin that he didn't recognize.

Crunching footsteps, someone walking away.

Dreaming of Rain

2008-06-18T02:39:00.003-04:00

Kohra woke with a gasp, yet he remained still, looking up at the ceiling in the darkness, and listening. His skin tingled with the phantom touch he had felt in his dream. He turned over on his side, reaching out beside him, hoping, yet knowing what he would find. Empty sheets, empty pillows, empty house... and now an empty soul. His thoughts came forth out of the dream, ringing clear in his mind: "If you could just understand how I feel--if I could just understand how you feel--"

But it was too late for that, he had ruined any chance he might have had. There would be no dancing in the rain, no Kre'oss watching him, ready to take him into his arms. He tucked his long legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and the empty pillow. His throat seemed to close off and his breaths came in irregular gasping gulps of air.

"Altana!" he cried out, his voice reverberating off the walls of a silent, empty home. "When will this pain stop? I feel I am dying every moment I'm awake!"

The only answer that came to him were his own choking sobs and the memory of Kre'oss' final words with him: "I do not belong to anyone. I will not allow it."

Driving Rain

2008-06-17T14:26:00.002-04:00

A guest blog entry.

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What does any of this mean, if you're not here?

When I'm alone, I just feel worthless. How can I really know that I exist without other people there with me? Without YOU there with me?

You always leave me, and that makes me feel worthless. No--I make me feel worthless, because I think that if I were worth loving, if I were somehow a better person, then I could make you stay, make you love me. But because I am nothing, a selfish person, a pathetic person, you turn away from me.

I've memorized every line of your retreating back, the way you hold your shoulders, the way the small of your back tenses up just a little, as if you can feel my eyes on you. Sometimes, I hate you then, but I think it's just love, crystallized to a sharp point, digging into my chest until I can feel it twisting in my side. I think you can feel it, too, it hurts that much. Maybe I want you to feel it. If you could just understand how I feel--if I could just understand how you feel--

Kohra laid on the floor of the Twilight God's shrine, staring up at the statue with blank, unseeing eyes. Half-reclined, his lanky, muscular body was stretched out onto his elbows, his legs splayed wide and his long, unbound hair in an aureole around his head. He wasn't sure how long he had been here, staring up at the statue with its nebulous face; the little light that reached the grotto from the winding staircase was barely enough to illuminate the polished, gleaming face of the statue anymore, but he couldn't seem to rouse himself to light candles. When he laid here, just like this, like a discarded toy or a powerless automaton, he felt surrendered to everything. And it was safe to surrender, here, where no one could see him. The body could fade away, and he could grapple in solitude with the emotions that were threatening to devour him of late.

It's like a storm, you and I.

I want you so much. I need you. I hunger for you, for your touch and your eyes and your voice. I want to forget everything else around me.

It's so easy to do that when you're there. I can lose myself and all of those things that I hate about myself when you offer your arms to me.

I almost forget what your embrace feels like. I forget what lying with you in the darkness feels like. I forget what the sound of your heart is like. I forget the feel of your chest breathing. I would rest a hand on your chest sometimes at night when you were sleeping, just to feel your chest thrum with your steady heartbeat, just to feel your body sway slightly with the rhythms of your breath. I had to, because I had to reassure myself that you were alive, that you were real, as real as me and my pain and all of the things that I hate so much about this world. Then sometimes, you'd respond to my touch in your sleep, and your lips would part just slightly, dried out from sleep, and you'd sigh a little. I'd see your eyes moving under your eyelids, and you'd surrender a little to my hand.

I'd give anything to see that unguarded look of love that your sleeping self wore, just one more time. I'd take it deep into myself, and burn it on my soul so that I'd never forget again. Or at least... I'd try.

Kohra rose to his feet. He made a half-hearted effort to pull his cloak back around him, mostly because the gusts of wind down the staircase were surprisingly cold, and he wavered for a moment on his feet, his body protesting at the sudden movement. He suddenly didn't want to see the statue anymore, with its lying, wavering face and its cold distance. It was just fucking stone. What good was THAT to him, to anyone? He slammed the door hard on the way out, taking a small twinge of satisfaction in the echoing sound of the door, and ascended the stairs two at a time.

It was as dark as midnight outside, and the tower which hid the entrance to the shrine was slick with rain; Ronfaure's mighty trees tossed in gale-force winds, and horizontal rain lashed at him as he stepped out from the tower's protection. The rain was surprisingly warm, and Kohra turned his face up, water stinging his eyes. The air above was charged and rippled with thunder and lighting; the skies were dancing, and ripping apart, and within himself Kohra felt something begin to open up and respond. He flung open his arms, dropping his pack, and shed what was left of his armor; rain and wind tugged at his clothes, demanding that he dance as well, and Kohra turned in the downpour, glorying in the feel of the rain and the charge and the raging skies.

And then, Kreoss was there as if it was meant to be. Kohra felt strong fingers on his arm, and he turned to look down into shuttered blue eyes half-hidden behind shades. Kreoss's face was rigid, and the eyes turned up toward Kohra were questioning, yearning; if it had been any other moment, Kohra's doubts would have made him turn away, murmur doubts, close himself off, but the storm and the statue and the moment all seemed conspired somehow. Kohra's hands closed about Kreoss's wrists, and he pulled the Zilart close, their rain-soaked bodies pressed against each other, and Kohra almost shuddered in delight at the way sinew and muscle joined together, as if they were a perfect fit. Kreoss yielded, and Kohra accepted; their lips met under the lashing sky, and thought itself seemed to end in that electric caress.

I thought being with you would mean that I would lose myself--not find someone else there, beside me.

Announcing the Guest Blog Challenge!

2008-06-15T10:55:00.002-04:00

Lyall's guest blog inspired me to announce a guest blog challenge :D Here's an opportunity for us to grow as writers.

Here are the rules:

1. Can't write about your own characters. Has to be a story or storylet about someone else's!
2. Must be from their perspective.
3. Nothing dramatically out of character--try to really think as the other person's character and not let your own perspective color it too much.

There might be a prize involved too ;P

~Soli~

Gift Blogging!

2008-06-15T08:05:00.001-04:00

They were laying near the small lake in Ronfaure in their usual positions. He was flat out with his hands folded casually under his head. She was curled on his chest, one tiny hand loosely clinging to his tunic and the other gently resting on his chest. She was dozing with her eyes closed, his were open and staring into the darkening sky. The usual.

"Seik, it looks like rain," Sparhawk said, speaking quietly to softly rouse Seikatsu from her doze. She looked up at him with that sweetly perfect smile that always seemed to touch him.

"Can we stay here as long as the weather permits?" Her tone was likewise quiet, her words beckoning to stay in the bliss of a loved one's company on a lazy afternoon for just a little while longer. Sparhawk took a glance at the heavy and drooping clouds and then back at Seikatsu, her eyes gleaming with adoration.

"As long as the weather permits, okay. We can stay until the rain drives us away." He smiled at her and she reciprocated.

"You promise?"

"Of course, Seik. Just don't hold it against me if your clothes get wet." He teased jokingly. Seik had that effect on Sparhawk sometimes. He wasn't usually the joker.

"Good." Seik shifted her weight and with a murmur and a simple gesture placed Aurastorm on both of them. A moment later the skies were too swelled and rain began to fall, splashing the grass and the surface of the lake with not a drop landing on either of the lovers.

Seik curled back up on Sparhawk's chest and closed her eyes, musing to him before she dozed back off. "Looks like the weather wants us right here..."

First Quarter Waxing 51%

2008-06-14T13:39:00.004-04:00

He wasn't sure how far north he had come any longer. Most of his travels were the sleep deprived, zombie-like gait that urged him forward to lands he didn't know. His feet led the way, his mind not quite aware of his surroundings.

The wounds he had sustained during his encounter with the Kindred were thankfully not critical. Some miles behind him there were tatters of clothing with his blood splashed on them, not far from the corpse of the demon. Lyall was a bit stiff the following morning but he had long ago learned to move while wounded. The worst of it was over and he had been traveling without much issue for some days.

It worried Lyall when his higher mind was around. The moon was so large in these lands, hogging up most of the view in the sky and looming like something terrible. It was a constant reminder, it was his calendar here. The full moon was still a dozen or more days away but everything felt wrong since that brush with the Kindred. The air was too still, there was a tension that Lyall couldn't shake. It reminded him of how the world felt during the full moon, when his predator's presence would be at its fullest. It didn't make sense for it to kick in only halfway...

He felt like he was traveling in a new world, so far away from the things he knew and the person he loved. This place was unlike that one, this place was always cold and never inviting and was too harsh for it to exist in the same world as the other. The dreams grew more intense as he got further from home, further from her. They had originally been vague, the sort of nightmare that adults had where waves of bad emotions overtook the proverbial horrors of youth. Since the Kindred however they had been the stuff of a child's nightmares, where the dread wasn't worst part for the monsters you could finally lay eyes on.

Homes set into the snow and ice ablaze, bodies torn apart like ragdolls in the hands of a destructive child. Everywhere were these four-legged monstrosities, furry like a wolf but too large, far too large. Men fought to protect their loved ones and limbs were clawed away, bodies ripped open to expose the soft and warm innards before the monsters devoured entrails. It was bloody and terrible to see and since the Kindred they had only become more vivid.

Lyall shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had been dazing too much, his instincts were getting sloppy. It was this damned frozen wasteland. There was no life here, nothing worth saving or preserving. There was no hope to be found here, there was only the hope you brought with you.

The moon was straight ahead of him, set in the sky and watching everything play out below. Lyall stopped to look at it, wondering why his curse was tied so strongly to it and he paused, his muscles locking up at the sound behind him. The crunching of snow, the setting of muscles and Lyall was pounced face-first into the snow, several hundred pounds of force driving him down down down into the white frost, his vision fading to black as his wounds reopened.

"Loo..."

Dark Clouds

2008-06-14T06:48:00.002-04:00

Sparhawk's eyes came open. Seik was lying on his chest, as was her custom; he'd gotten used to waking up with her weight on top of him, the steadiness of her breathing lulling him back to sleep. One small hand was curled into a half-fist on his shoulder, grasping his tunic in loose fingers. Even now, was she worried he'd vanish on her? He laid there for a long few minutes, listening to the even rhythms of her breath, inhaling the scent of her hair. One of her ears softly flickered occasionally in sleep, and her face looked so peaceful. He wondered what she was looking at behind her downy veil of eyelashes, what sorts of dreams she had now. He raised a hand to brush her hair back from his chest, letting the silkiness of it pass through his rough fingers, then stroked her ears caressingly.

He was too old for her, too broken, too cynical, too consumed by vengeance. She was as beautiful and unspoiled as dawn on a spring day. She was the freshness of sun-warmed air, the azure blue on the western horizon; she was sweetness itself; she was anything anyone could ever ask for. Since promising to spend nights with her, their relationship had grown and flowered in a way that he had not expected. She had been slow to respond to his gentle advances at first, and he had not pressed her, but when she had finally opened up to him it was with the same tenderness and love that she had always given him. It was more than he was worth. It had never felt like that with Lillias. SHE had always been ardent, but with a demanding petulance that he had once found engaging.

He grimaced at thoughts of Lillias spoiling his morning's peace. If it really WAS morning. The fire had died down to the merest embers. Mel was nowhere to be seen; she tended to make herself scarce (with the requisite sighs, glares, and other displays of high drama that he was accustomed to ignoring). Carefully, he slid out from underneath Seik, repositioning her in the rumpled blanket that was usually their bed. She sighed in her sleep at the change, but it did not rouse her. He straightened and stretched, grimacing at muscles and joints cracking in protest. Sleeping on the floor was alright for an old campaigner, but it got hard to get up in the mornings sometimes.

He stoked the fire, putting on a few more logs, then stripped to the waist. His morning routines had become crystallized over years of use; he brought water from the outside fountain, then washed. His hands skirted over the old, deep, purple gashes in his body almost mechanically. They still ached, especially on mornings like this one. The summer air outside, even in the very early morning, was rich with humidity. He didn't bother with breakfast, pulling on a clean undershirt and all of his armor. He spared one more glance for Seik, now almost lost in the blanket, still sleeping soundly. Then he soundlessly left the room, loosening his knives in their sheaths.

He could likely make his way down to the grotto blindfolded, for all that he had not made the trip in years. And it was back, as he had expected--the statue of the Dark One. The air in the shrine was a great deal fresher than it had been previously, even though he had repaired the door. Someone had probably been visiting here recently. Kohra, he guessed. The others likely wouldn't need this place. Sparhawk had made a few efforts to clean the dust and cobwebs out of the shrine, and had repaired or hidden most of the weaponry, the pieces that were not rusted beyond usefulness. He hated to see his brothers' hideout in such disrepair.

He carefully lit the candles, then gazed up at the statue. It showed Lillias's face now. That wasn't particularly surprising. For all of his gentle words and careful solicitude for Seik of late, only one thought consumed him. His mind was always dwelling on it. He dreamt about it, when he did not dream of Danae, and a million plans for its fruition spun in his mind. Nothing else mattered in comparison. He felt his fists clenching up reflexively, his fingertips digging into his palm even through his thick buffalo-hide gloves.

That bitch took everything from me. Every word she said to me, every memory we shared, the child we created, the life that we built together--it was all just a lie. A perversion. And she'll try to take everything else I have, too. I know her. It rankles her, like a flea digging into her ear, that I have any happiness at all. She even killed Danae. Our own DAUGHTER! An innocent that loved her. It's unforgivable. While she lives, I can never know life or peace or joy. While she lives, none of the people I care for are safe. While she lives, Seik and I can have no life together. This isn't a life anyway. It's just a prison term. And it's all her fault.

Enraged, he drew his bow and snapped an arrow from the string; it clattered from that hated, beautiful face and fell to the floor. He turned on his heel and strode from the shrine, taking the steps two at a time. There was work, so much work, left to be done. Soon. Soon, he would avenge Danae. Maybe then he would be able to enjoy peaceful mornings like this one again instead of being consumed by this horrible emptiness.

Note Book 10 Page 48-50

2008-06-02T05:43:00.005-04:00

I’m feeling a lot better now. Though I can only very vaguely recall what has happened since the last time I wrote. There are only certain points I can remember clearly. I remember Kohra having found me in Northern San d’Oria and he tried to help me. I remember Mai showing up at some point, why she was there I really don’t know... The one thing I can remember, clear as day, is when Sparhawk showed up.

As soon as I saw him I felt calm and happy. He asked Kohra and Mai to leave then sat down with me and asked what was wrong. I told him about the nightmares, the images of the dream skipping through my head as I told him. His tone is always gentle around me, always comforting. He lay down on the floor and told me he would stay with me every night, I felt overjoyed when he said that. Last thing I remember was resting my head on his chest for only a moment before falling asleep to the sound of his heart.

And the nightmares were gone, instead replaced by vivid, warm, soft colors that danced around in my mind while I slept. It was like the nightmares never existed at all. Though I know they did… When Sparhawk is with me I don’t feel frightened. The only time I feel afraid when he is by my side is if he is hurt… Then there is an overwhelming wave of fear that just sweeps over me and I just freeze up. I feel alone and don’t know what to do, much like a lost child. I have many fears… Lillias, Alberic when he is taken over, losing my friends… But I think that losing Sparhawk is the worst of my fears.

When I had thought I had lost him back in the Testing Grounds… Everything just hurt… I can’t really describe it, it just felt like pain. If Alberic and the others hadn’t come to find me I don’t think I would have moved from that spot in the woodlands. I think I may have just been completely unwilling to move, perhaps unwilling to even go about life. When Alberic said that Sparhawk could still be alive, it felt like I had taken the first deep breath after feeling like I had held my breath for hours. And when Kohra, Joundi, and I found him alive and well in that strange hidden shrine, the feeling was just, I don’t know… I felt like I could have sprouted wings.

I’ve been very happy and light hearted the past couple of days. Been studying the stratagems in my grimoires and learning about strange magic that can alter the weather around a person. Yesterday I was able to conjure a small rainstorm around some flowers I found out in Ronfaure. It’s amazing to be able to create all types of weather. I wonder what the others will think of this magic. I picked up some new armor in the past Bastok as well. Though the coat is heavy and the skirt takes some getting used to, it’s really a nice outfit.

I hope I see the others some time soon. I don’t want anyone who happened to see me while I was under the effect of those dreadful nightmares to be worried. I imagine I must have looked awful after not having slept in days.

New Moon Waxing 12%

2008-05-27T03:02:00.005-04:00

"My goddess," he thought wearily on his hands and knees in the snow, "Is that my blood?" Lyall thought out loud. Behind him there came a gruff laughter followed by the crunching of footsteps in the frost and a thunderous kick sent the hume rolling onto his back. He blinked, shaking the cobwebs from his brain and staring into the sky. It was funny, if he'd been asked Lyall never would have thought he'd die under a pristine blue sky. His straggling mind wondered what color the sky had been when Loo-

The thought was forced out of him by another powerful strike, this time in his sternum. Wheezing for breath Lyall doubled into himself, turning to try and cover his vitals. Part of his brain knew it didn't matter, he'd seen the curved blade the Kindred had been holding before it had come to hand-to-hand combat. It couldn't be any further from the demon than his own axe could be from him. The difference was Lyall's feet were flat out while the Kindred still was on his. Another burst of laughter and another kick. Something in a language Lyall didn't quite understand. Footsteps.

It had only been a few hours ago he was thanking his luck. The New Moon had passed without much harm and he hadn't been bothered terribly on his way across the Glacier. Once he'd reached Xarcabard the sense of safety was gone but even then nothing much had bothered him. He'd heard some tremendous footsteps one evening but nothing had come near him. He shouldn't have let himself get comfortable, he shouldn't have let his guard down... He smiled bitterly at the fact the first Kindred he'd met would be the one to kill him.

"Loo would be so disappointed in me, being bested in singles combat..." he said aloud. It didn't matter if the demon could hear him or not, he reasoned. Lyall got to his knees and forced himself upright, his hands scrabbling for his weapon and dragging it beneath him for support. There was blood in the snow but he didn't know where he was wounded, whether it was serious or only superficial. The kindred regarded him with what Lyall thought was a sneer and approached with weapon in hand.

"I made a promise, creature, and I intend to keep it." Leaning heavily on the haft of the great axe Lyall forced himself to his feet and spit crimson. "She's much scarier than you are."

The Call

2008-05-24T06:42:00.002-04:00

From A Brief History of the Yagudo Theomilitary: Bloodlust and Warfare, by Jango-Nango, excerpted from chapter 13: "Luri Cree, the Butcher of Mindartia"

-----

The terrifying Yagudo King Luri Cree, known to the Federation as Lurian Cree, the Butcher of Mindartia, is estimated to have hatched circa C.E. 790. The eighth egg of a prestigious warrior-priest, Lurian chose to focus on the warrior side of his bloodline. At that time, the Yagudo Theomilitary was under the control of the infamous Nee Lufa the Manifest, and strongly aligned under the priest caste of the Yagudo society. Luri Cree focused instead upon uniting and consolidating military power, aligning himself with the Divine Martyrs and Divine Sentinel factions. By C.E. 820, despite the continued reign of Nee Lufa, Lurian had grown to lead the Yagudo in secular affairs, proclaiming himself the King of the Yagudo even as Nee Lufa remained the Manifest, holding all spiritual power.

It is widely believed that the Seventh Yagudo War was the result of political machinations by Lurian Cree. A political realist and extraordinarily ruthless, Lurian Cree was as brutal to his own people as he was to the children of Altana. Beastman scholars have documented the various means, both overt and otherwise, by which Lurian Cree consolidated power over the Yagudo, ranging from political assassination to blackmail to torture. Unlike most Yagudo, Lurian seemed to care little for religion and only briefly acknowledged Nee Lufa's supposedly supreme power, genuflecting to the Manifest while carrying out his own political sideshows. His massacre of one hundred fifty-three Divine Templars as an example to Pii Quqa the Decreer in C.E. 823 remains legendary among the Yagudo, and before long, Nee Lufa was placed into the position of instigating a whirlwind attack on Windurst itself in a desperate bid to regain power from Lurian's grasp.

Lurian Cree's reign was also noted for a rise in brutality and incidents between the Yagudo and the Federation. Captured mercenaries or War Warlocks were often killed in horrific gladiator-style spectacles for Lurian's amusement in games dedicated to the glory of the Manifest. After Nee Lufa's death in the Seventh Yagudo War, the new Manifest, Soo Luma, proved far more tractable and was little more than a puppet for Lurian Cree's machinations. Lurian preferred a policy of realpolitik and isolationism from even the other races of beastmen, allowing only the most minimum trade contacts and frequently humiliating the other Kindred by forcing their ambassadors to convert to the Yagudo religion as well as provide soldiers and captives for the brutal Yagudo bloodsports.

By Yagudo standards, Lurian Cree was quite ancient when he was suddenly killed in C.E. 847. His murder came at the hands of his own son, Jori Cree, known as Jorian, who was far more religiously influenced than his father and was backed by the priest castes, including the Divine Inspirers and their leader, the rising star Tzee Xicu. Jorian declared that the Manifest's life was in danger from his father's machinations, and that the Divine One had placed a curse upon Lurian's soul, that he may never know peace in this life or the next. Although Jori Cree's actions won him the position of Avatar, he never wielded the vast political power of his father, and ceded most temporal authority to Tzee Xicu when she became the new Manifest circa C.E. 850.

-----

From the Federation of Windurst's mercenary record archives, Optistery, dated C.E. 869:

NAME: Loocee Wahcondalo
AGE: 20
RACE: Mithra
UNIT: Wildcat Volunteers (C.E. 861-863)
MEDALS OBTAINED: Steelknight Emblem ∮∮∮
NOTES:

--Honorably discharged after the conclusion of the Crystal War

--Known relatives: Jakoh Wahcondalo (cousin, Norg piratess)

--Engaged as a mercenary-for-hire for traveling merchants after the war

--Merchant train ambushed by Yagudo militants spring of C.E. 865, no known survivors

CURRENT STATUS: Believed deceased

Of Men and Beasts

2008-05-23T20:56:00.002-04:00

Kohra stepped into Fei'Yin, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, allowing the emotions of this familiar place to envelope him.

"Do you know why this place such strife and suffering imprinted on it Kohra? Do you know what happened here?"

Kohra opened his eyes slowly, and nodded to Esbet. "The Kuluu risked everything to prevent the Zilart from carrying out their vision of paradise. Their home was destroyed in the process. Bbut I often wonder how places can carry the emotions of the people who dwell within them."

"Emotions are very powerful things Kohra. They can tear even the greatest of Men asunder. They can also heal the most grievous of wounds. They can take on a life of thier own. But how to control them, and channel them? This is our quest." Her voice was quiet, yet full of authority. It forced Kohra to focus intently on her words.

Kohra watched her for a few moments, waiting patiently for her to continue. She seemed not inclined to continue for the time being, so he walked down the corridor, further into this borken and ruined place.

"Tell me, what do you feel in the arcana in this place?" she asked.

He answered almost immediately. "Expectation, anticipation. It's like they are waiting for something and are restless. It is much the same to one degree or another of this type of arcana, the machines and statues. It is as if they are waiting for something."

"Very good Kohra. They are awaiting orders of their masters, who are dead and will not come again. They no longer have a purpose, but they do not realize this and likely never will. They will go on waiting until the earth crumbles to dust or they are all destroyed. You have a strong connection to arcana to be able to so readily feel their emotions without aid." She seemed sad, as if she took pity on such things.

They were quiet for some time, moving from room to room, sensing the creatures about them, and listening.

At last Esbet broke the silence. "You've been training much lately in the ways of beasts I've noticed."

Kohra chuckled softly. "Do you have spies trailing me Esbet?"

She seemed surprised for a moment at such a suggestion. "No. I've seen in you the traditional armour of Beastmasters, leaving the city of late. It is good that you are training thusly. It can give you a fundimental understanding of the base, or foundation, emotions if you will. If you watch them, you will see how it motivates their actions, even if you cannot sense or hear their emotions. In seeing such things, it can help you to understand your own emotions and how they effect you. Understanding is the first step to mastery Kohra."

He stood pondering these things, and as he did, Esbet slipped quietly away.

Daybreak

2008-05-20T09:21:00.003-04:00

His camp was already broken down by the time the first rays of the sun touched down outside. He didn't know this from his position in Ranguemont Pass, or at the very least he didn't know it visually. Lyall had risen with the sun many times in the past on his travels and he knew he needed to be in top traveling form for this trip; This wasn't just an excursion to Valkurm or Jeuno. This was something bigger for him.

As he wished in his journal his dreams were pleasant while he slumbered. His camp was undisturbed throughout the night and even though he could hear the goblinfolk scampering and skittering around in the darkness none of them were quite brave enough to approach. They could sense the predator, too.

Lyall couldn't count on that for long. The moon was fading and he wanted to be back in the wilderness before it was at its last quarter. He couldn't afford to camp near the beastmen while whatever charm kept them away was down.

The rocky depths of the cavern didn't prove to be too complex. For a man who had walked from Bastok to San d'Oria it would take a bit more than slippery groundwork to slow his pace. Lyall had always been adept at traveling on foot and he was thankful for that.

In total Lyall had navigated the cave before the afternoon was spent. He took his time for a brief lunch in the mouth of the cave and watched the snow coming down in large, heavy flakes. The blizzard would pass soon. He was midway through his meal when heavy footsteps and words lost in the winds drifted towards him. Lyall was already waiting with his axe in his hands before the first of the group broke the curtain of weather and stepped foot into mouth of the Pass.

"Hold there, friend! No beastmen this way, just some weary travelers," spoke a heavyset fellow with a smile. When asked the man told Lyall that his caravan had been returning from a pilgrimage to the ancient city if Fei'Yin. Their group consisted of about a dozen, a smattering of humes and taru and elvaan. Only three of them looked battle ready.

"We've been researching the arcana there. They're usually friendly enough but they attack immediately if someone taps anything magical near them. You'd do well to not cast near them, friend." Lyall wondered what part of him, covered almost head to toe in heavy mail, looked like a mage.

Lyall welcomed them for their own lunch and the many of them spent a bit of time merrymaking. This would be the last chance Lyall had at conversation before his stepped foot into the snow, he imagined, so no use in letting it go to waste. The bulk of the caravan were speaking about magic and arcana and things Lyall didn't understand very much.

Before the two parties went their seperate ways, Lyall asked a favor of them, if they could deliver some mail for him in San d'Oria if they were stopping there for long. One of the elvaan fellows said he would be more than obliged to.

Standing at the shifted curtain of falling ice with powder blowing freely around his feet, Lyall took one last moment to reflect on the people he was leaving behind before stepping into the frost.

My first post is OOC? What a let down!

2008-05-20T07:31:00.004-04:00

Everything got set on me much faster than I would have liked. Not even time for formal good-byes and so longs. I'll be sure to be around and I'll update when I can. Feel free to spam Lyall's message center on PoL with well-wishing if you like. XD

I'm gonna miss you guys. Be back when I can.

~Steve

Note Book 10 Page 45-47

2008-05-15T00:48:00.008-04:00

I felt that I needed to write... The nightmares won’t stop. Every night since the incident in Hazhalm I’ve had the same nightmare, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t falter, and it always ends in the same way… With me waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, and shaking uncontrollably while on the verge of crying. It almost seems too real to be a dream. All of it seems to be too real, too frightening…

Every time it starts it’s always nearly pitch black, only being able to hear at first. I can hear the sounds of blade hitting flesh very clearly, the sound of multiple voices crying out in agony, then the thump of the bodies crumpling to the floor. I always grab my ears in the dream, wanting the noises to stop. But when I do the darkness begins to pull back slightly, allowing me to see what’s close by. I really wish I could look away… Every time, all the people I know and am close to lay dead, scattered all around me in pools of their own blood.

Terror and panic always kicks in at this point. I can’t move, can’t look away, I start hyperventilating because of my panicked state while looking around at the faces of the bodies and recognizing every one of them… Every last one of my friends… their lifeless eyes all staring at me… But the body closest to me is always the same person, Sparhawk… Every time in this dream when I see him I can feel my heart stop for a moment and my blood run cold.

When I can feel my heart beating again I can hear it echoing slowly in my mind, then the pain starts. The same extreme searing pain that I felt back in the Testing Grounds when I held his body in my arms. Like a jagged hook had been driven through my heart and body and was pulling me backwards… I always collapse to my knees at this point in the dream, either to check the body or just in pure disbelief. But then I hear it, her wicked laughter… The next moment I look up, there stands Lillias, swords drenched in blood, and her face clearly twisted in delight behind the veil of her keffiyeh.

I can never get up at this point, though I try so hard to get my legs to move, to be able to move at all, I just can’t. I can only sit there and stare, unable to move or speak. She always laughs, her green eyes narrowing, point both swords down at me. “Worthless little coward.” Her laugh echoes all around me while she says this. “You couldn’t stop me from killing any of these fools even if you tried. You couldn’t save any of them…” Raising her swords with a smug glint in her eyes “You can’t even prevent your own death.” She swiftly swings her swords down at me, but before I can feel the blades pierce my own flesh, before I can experience my own death within my nightmare, I always jolt awake.

When I wake up on the floor of the San d’Orian rent-a-room I’ve been staying in, at first all I can do is suffer from the immediate panic attack I get. My heart is always still hurting when I wake up. This nightmare is frightening no matter how many times I suffer through it. The doll that Alberic gave me helps me find a little comfort, along with the flowers Sparhawk gave me back during the Starlight Celebration, but I feel like I need to be with Sparhawk in person to find any real comfort. When he is with me I feel warm, happy, safe… but when he is hurt while protecting me… I freeze up. I want to be strong enough to help him, strong enough to help my friends when they need me, but… I’m a coward… a horribly weak little coward… If I can’t protect my friends and who I love, then what use am I?

… I want to be with Sparhawk more than anything right now. I felt like I had lost him and almost gave up hope… I really don’t want to experience that feeling again. I’ve given up on my own happiness so many times… But when he is with me, I can still see it, like it’s still within grasp. I’m feeling really weak right now, most likely due to exhaustion from lack of sleep and the fear these nightmares evoke. Then again I may be coming down with some sort of cold or sickness… I need to force myself to rest somehow…

an unusual visit

2008-05-13T21:47:00.002-04:00

Kohra sat in front of the stature, looking up into the wavering face. Instead of feeling comforted, he felt hollow and alone.

After only a few moments, there was the sound of soft footfalls in the stairwell, and a small figure appeared in the doorway. Kohra held the gaze of the Tarutaru woman, though neither said anything for a long time. She had her head cocked slightly to one side, as if listening to something only she could hear.

“Kohra…” She spoke softly, in a comforting manner, as a mother to her son. “I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for here.”

Kohra looked away, feeling embarrassed, though he didn’t know why. “Who are you to say such a thing? You don’t even know me, nor I you.” He was more perplexed than annoyed.

“I know more of you than you think. I’ve been watching you for several months.” She said gently, and took a seat on the dusty floor beside him, looking up into the statue’s face.

He looked down at her, trying his best to look incredulous at this announcement. In reality, he felt strangely comforted, as if he were sitting with a trusted friend he hadn’t seen for years. “What do you mean, watching me?”

“Well,” she looked up at him, smiling brightly “you have very strong emotions. They echo off the city walls. It would have been almost impossible for me not to notice you.”

Kohra frowned at this, visibly confused.

“I suppose I should explain.” She laughed softly at his expression. “I’m an empath. My name is Esbet.”

“That’s an odd name for a Tarutaru.” Kohra spoke without thinking.

“It is indeed.” She offered no further explaination. “Getting back to you; I felt you as soon as I entered the city. I very rarely come to San d’Oria. Your emotions are very strong as I said, but they are chaotic, and run rampant. It was rather overwhelming to hear you actually.”

He turned away, ashamed.

“Now don’t get me wrong dear.” She reached out and patted his arm. “I didn’t mean that as a reproach. I sense much struggle in you, to gain control.”

He nodded mutely.

“Well, this is where I come in. I can offer you aid. I think you would do well as an empath, if you can harness your emotions first.”

“I don’t understand. One doesn’t simply –become- an empathy. You either are or you aren’t, or so I’ve been lead to believe.” Kohra wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“In most circumstances I’d say that’s true.” She nodded in agreement. “However, natural talent can be amplified. You already display some empathic power.”

He frowned, pretending to himself he didn’t know what she was referring to.

“You feel other’s pain and suffering clearly enough. You even utilize it to empower yourself.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing to be ashamed of.

He jerked his face away from her’s, trying to hide his expression of guilt.

“I think in essence this can be channeled to a better use Kohra, it’s not necessarily bad. But you certainly need to gain mastery over it, rather than allow it to master you, as it does now.” She spoke gently, giving him time to muse.

“Do you really think so?” He asked finally.

“Yes.” She nodded. It will take some time, but if you are willing to put in the effort to train your mind, we can help you.”

“We?”

“The Order of Ancient Whispers. We’re a very small group. Only eight. Our goal is to understand emotions, our own and other’s, and to channel them to one use or another.”

“Such as?” He was expecting to hear some plot to take over the world or something along those lines.

“Well, that’s up to the individual. Our common ground is really just a fiercely emotional mind.” She shrugged. “We don’t have an ultimate goal, or purpose, to be honest.”

“Hmmm… Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot. I’m not getting anywhere on my own.” He sighed.

“Excellent. How about we meet tomorrow evening, in Fei’Yin? Since you’re so familiar with that area, it would be a good place to start.”

“All right. Should I bring anything?”

“All you need is yourself, but feel free to bring whatever makes you feel comfortable.” She hopped up, and made her way to the door, waving over her shoulder, and trotting up the stone stairway.

Kohra was left with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

NBcon V2

2008-05-13T19:53:00.004-04:00

Hey guys. After hours of harassing timeshare people over the phone I finally have a set date for when and where NBcon V2 will be. The date I have the place reserved for is August 30th through September 6th. Where we will be staying is at the Celebrity Resorts Poconos. It looks like a really nice place to be staying at. It technically says it sleeps 6 people, but if we have more than 6 then some can sleep on the floor or something. I know that school is starting back up around this time, but this is the date I could get. I literally had another place and date snatched out from under me within about 5 min. If you would like to get a look at the place we're gonna be staying at here is the website address: Celebrity Resorts Poconos
Anyway, I'm hoping that quite a few of you guys will be able to make the time and come out for this. (You should all totally ditch school for this... >.>) If there are any problems then leave a comment on this post or contact me in game. Oh, and when I see you guys you are getting hugs, whether you like it or not. =D

-= Seik =-

Seik's art...

2008-05-13T03:00:00.001-04:00

... is here.

~Soli~

Loneliness and False Comforts

2008-05-12T08:20:00.003-04:00

Kohra stopped suddenly in the road. He hesitated then turned his chocobo away from the gates in the east and headed west, towards the tower. The urge was suddenly overwhelming; he had to see for himself if it was there. He dismounted outside the tower, opened the trapdoor inside and descended the dark, spiraling staircase. He felt his way into the altar room, muttered a simple spell and the candles shone force, suddenly catching aflame. He released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. There was the statue, looking down on him, the face shifting from the visage of Alberic to Kre'oss, and lingering on the latter. Kohra stood, looking wistfully at it for a few moments. Then he reached up, lightly tracing the jawline with his fingers.

"At least I know I can come here and look upon you when I'm lonely and missing you..." he murmured to himself.

He stayed a few moments longer, then turned sadly and walked towards the city.

Real-life Blogs

2008-05-11T20:56:00.004-04:00

I know we have a few in the LS:

Ramp's: http://rampagesama.blogspot.com

Lyall's: http://www.myspace.com/edgeofmercy

Mine: http://www.myspace.com/aliddotia and http://www.rockband.com/rockers/SolitiaAgain

Anyone else have a blog they feel like sharing?

~Soli~

Forgiveness and Self-loathing

2008-05-07T07:10:00.004-04:00

Kre'oss,

I do hope Harold finds you, and gets this to you. My words are feeble in the face of what I have done. My act was cruel and viscious, and I cannot hope for your forgiveness. Mai showed me the letter you wrote to her, and had I even the slightest inkling of the effect my words would have produced, I would not have spoken them. I did not think.

Though I do not deserve it, I beg for you to come talk to me. Words may be inadequate, but they are all I have.

Kohra

Loop, part 2

2008-05-07T04:10:00.002-04:00

Silence.

Then, we start again. Awake. Live. Breathe. Move. Know.

The mind will think again, churning slowly at first, and then you will remember. And the first thing that you will remember is the face of the person that you love the most.

They say that is the last thing you remember when you die, as well. Was it in your mind's eye, this same image, when you died? Do you remember how that person felt in your arms, the sound of their voice, the way they smiled when they were happy? Or do you only remember the agony in their eyes as you died?

*** *** ***

"We lost almost everyone at the La Vaule campaign!" Sparhawk snapped, slamming the weapons chest shut, his eyes snapping as he looked at Lucarimond. "We're down to only seven full knights remaining, and since YOU won't give me my spurs yet--"

"You're just a boy," Lucarimond said firmly. "You've barely hit your growth spurt yet, and you have yet to become as strong as a man. When you can wield a Great Sword at battle strength for hours, then you will be ready to be knighted, but not yet."

"But the Pandions will die!" Sparhawk pleaded, his voice rising with desperation. "There are too few of us to carry on the old ways!"

Lucarimond shrugged wearily. Long years of war had ground away the knight's optimism, and his face was deeply creased with premature age, his hair falling sheet-white to his shoulders even though he was only twenty-five. "Perhaps it is Lord Promathia's will that the Pandions be wiped out. Perhaps we were never meant to exist at all. But you are Anakha.... you're the one that will be able to carry on our legacy even after this horrible war, even after everyone else is dead." He reached out and lightly ruffled Sparhawk's hair; it was already tinged with white and gray strands.

Sparhawk averted his eyes rebelliously. "What good is it to be this Anakha thing that nobody seems to understand if it means I can't protect ANYONE?!" He rammed his fist hard into the weapons chest, barely feeling the pain that shot up into his forearm. "I want to be a Pandion Knight and serve the will of Promathia, not this Anakha person...."

Lucarimond's eyes slid toward the statue of Promathia in the far corner, half-wrapped in cloth now for hasty removal; the shrine to Promathia from which the Pandions had based their order was now largely used as a war room. "Our way of life is dying out, Sparhawk... but our ideals never will. That was our dream, when we founded the Order." He smiled fondly at the unhappy boy and turned to leave. "I will take the remaining knights to Sauromugue tomorrow. Make sure no one can get into the shrine. You know what those heretics at the San d'Orian Cathedral will do if they find this place. They will defile and destroy it."

Sparhawk looked slowly around the shrine after Lucarimond left, and nodded to himself. No matter what happened, this was his home.... the one place to which he could always return. Carefully, he doused the remaining candles, and locked up the door, stashing the iron key in his shirt, against his skin before running up the stairs away from the shrine as hard as he could.

Loop

2008-05-06T20:08:00.002-04:00

"We have brought the boy, my Lord."

The Elvaan knight lightly touched his hand to the Hume boy's shoulders, nudging him forward. Although the boy had had to be blindfolded for most of his journey to the chapel, he had not seemed afraid; Lucarimond had been impressed that the boy had not even faltered when they had led him down the long spiral staircase that delved deep into the earth, nor did he seem at all surprised or alarmed that the chapel was in such a cold, dark grotto. The earth pressed in on all sides, but the cluster of knights who worshiped here did not seem to mind.

The abbot turned from his contemplation of the statue at the black stone altar. "I am Branigan," he said in his low, raspy voice, his bandaged face turned toward the boy. "Abbot of the Chapel of Twilight, and Preceptor of our most holy Order of knights. Do not be afraid, Anakha."

"I'm not afraid," the boy said steadily.

Branigan took the boy's hand and led him forward toward the altar. Anakha placed one small hand on the smooth, polished black stone, and gazed up into the face of the statue. The shape of the body was also smooth, a perfect oval, the hands clasped, and the darksteel chains wrapped around the body were held taut by those clasped hands, the shoulders of the vaguely humanoid figure drawn in to keep the chains wrapped even tighter about itself. The statue had no face, but the smooth surface where the face would be was sheathed in a featureless mask of orichalcum, and a stone of the deepest midnight color, intricately faceted, was sunk into the heart of the statue, seeming to absorb rather than reflect the light.

"Behold, O godless one, the face of our Lord," Branigan said softly; the knights that were clustered in the grotto all genuflected, bowing their heads deeply before the statue. "This is the image of our Lord Promathia, the Twilight God, one-half of all that exists, the power that balances the light. Our persecutors at the San d'Orian Cathedral would have us believe that our worship of Promathia is heretical; but what is light without shadow, dawn without dusk? There is no good without evil, nor evil without good; the duality of what Is and Is Not is at the heart of all existence. Our hearts are as patriotic as those of our countrymen that worship the Dawn Goddess, and our blades are turned toward San d'Oria's enemies, but it is Promathia that empowers us. We do not fear Him. He is a kindly God, a just God, who has taught us the many mysteries of attack magics that we can use to protect our people."

He turned his hideously burned, maimed face down toward the boy. "It is not given to us to know the future, but Vana'diel itself is aware of the birth and rebirth of the one known as Anakha. You would be a valuable ally to us, and in turn, we can make you strong. Do not fear us, Anakha. There is nothing to be feared in the darkness; only ignorance and prejudice can possibly defeat us."

"I am not afraid," the boy said.

The knights lifted the boy up onto the altar, and they placed the palm of his hand onto the black stone in the center of the statue of Promathia's chest. The boy gazed up into the polished, featureless mask. The abbot stretched forth his hands. "Divine Promathia, we bring forth the child without a destiny, the pathless one, the one known in all lives as Anakha. Although he may belong to no God nor man, we consecrate his soul to you, by his own choice and by our design, that our most Holy Order may be enriched by his power. Grant to him in turn your secrets, that he may grow to be strong, no longer alone in this world but our brother-knight."

A knight brought forth oil and incense as the abbot prayed, and the boy's head was anointed. The black stone beneath his fingers pulsed, and the boy closed his eyes, listening to the soft whispers of the Dark God. The abbot took the boy's small hand then and placed it onto the hilt of a sword. The boy's fingers slowly curled around the weapon, far too large for him.

"You are now a Pandion, Anakha," Branigan proclaimed loudly, his voice echoing off of the stone walls of the grotto. "The man without a destiny has been given one--the sword. The art of dark magic and the power of the blade are your path now; Divine Promathia has accepted you into his service. Humanity is soon to face its greatest threat; we have read the signs and portents, and the Pandion Order will rise to meet it with steel raised. Arise, Anakha--no, Sparhawk of the Pandion Knights!"

The boy stood, the tip of the sword resting on the altar, the hilt firmly in his grasp, and turned to face the other knights, who rose as one and drew their own swords in salute. "I am not afraid," he said clearly.

*** *** ***

"Draw your sword. Do it."

"I can't. I'm too weak. I'm useless."

"You will be removed."

"I can't. We can't. What point is there?"

"I don't want to be alone...."

"Isn't there anyone out there who loves me?"

"That's not it. You have to make your own destiny. There's no such thing as--"

"I will remove you."

"Hey, you! Yeah, you. Who are you?"

"Stop it. Stop it NOW!"

"Isn't there any meaning to any of this? What am I, anyway?"

"That's not how it is.... but I know I'm not going to run away."

"Draw your sword."

"Maybe I'm not even human anymore. Maybe none of us are human."

"Mother.... Father...."

"They're trying to hurt her. They always are. She won't protect herself, so she just takes it. It rips me apart."

"Hey, you--yeah, you. Who are you looking for?"

"Who do you think you are, anyway? Did you really think someone like you could be happy?"

"That's not true. I care about you. Even though I exist. I am not real."

"I am going to remove you."

"In the end, you have to decide. Run away, or fight?"

"There's no point to living without you. I can't be alone anymore. Knowing what it is like with you, and knowing what it is like without you, I'd rather die than have to live without you. So, that's why I have to--"

"Draw it. Draw your sword."

Reciprocity: Act and Feeling.

2008-05-06T07:08:00.004-04:00

A letter is pinned to the door of Master Ikari's Mog House.

My dear Master Ikari:

I hope that this note receives you in reasonable good health and spirits, circumstances nonwithstanding. I became aware of the recent occurrences via a most unusual vessel; upon a visit to Kohra's Mog House, I found his dwelling locked and a note of most dire import left behind for any to view. In the note, Kohra expressed his intention to exchange himself with a villain that he referred to only as Lillias, a villain that seemed to have taken forcible possession of your husband. I was even more amazed at Kohra's intention to meet with this said villain and switch places with Alberic; he continued to say that this was because he was expendable.

Naturally, such a development was anathema to me. I took the note and departed immediately for Aht Urhgan. I have traveled in my time as an adventurer frequently to the Empire, as those in our business are wont to do, to hone my skills and derive some small fortune from mercenary works. Now, my purpose was much more finely honed; I cast my mind wide and listened with all of my power for any who had thought or recollection of Kohra. To my delight, I found soon that he had traveled to the Undersea Ruins off of Nyzul Isle by following the thought of the Tarutaru gentleman who issues runic portal passes. His recollection of Kohra was relatively recent, and Kohra's mien and appearance distinctive, so it was with renewed purpose that I traced Kohra to the winding maze of the ruin.

By the time I tracked Kohra to the northernmost corner of the ruins, my heart was steeled with inexorability of purpose. I had resolved that no matter what might come pass, Kohra was not to leave that place to continue on his dread action. I lashed out at him with rebuking words, calling to his attention the selfishness of his purport and childishness of his demeanor, reminding him (as you did me, once before) that his life was not his to discard as he will, but belongs to all who love him. In turn, he railed at me for as many sins as he could invoke.

I even drew blade against my close friend, for if I had to, I was fully prepared to use force to compel him to obey me. This enraged him further, and in stubbornness his furor at me rose, and he tore into me with every weapon of word and feeling that he could summon. Not with ears alone, but with my soul did I hear each word he flung at me. And although I endured what I could, my entire being thrummed with each word that pierced me, and his feelings, ever uncontrolled and wild with their free rein, passed through me, taking bits and pieces of my soul with them.

His rage and grief were sated only when he informed me that my behavior had driven him to these actions, that my frequent disappearances had disappointed him and indeed our entire group, and that it was my callousness, my uncaring, that inflamed him so. Indeed, his words rang with truth, and I had for him no response. I -am- often gone, I -am- often aloof from the people that I care for the most; I am not human, not only because of my Zilartian nature, but because my emotional processes are not acceptable to others. To this, I have no real response, but I feel diminished by his words, as if I have somehow become less, as if I have bled from my very spirit. I would say that I feel worthless, but that sounds self-indulgent; perhaps I have merely become fully aware of my own nature for the first time.

Kohra eventually withdrew; I believe he realized he had said all to me that he could say. I wonder if he is satisfied? He seems to enjoy hurting me, if only to provoke an emotional reaction, but if my nature were not so alien, then he would not have to act so. He said he had changed for me, but I am not entirely sure if he has. I technically owe him nothing, but I feel filthy now in my own skin, as if I have become aware that my skin itself is the filth. Self-loathing, however, is nothing new to me, so why does this feeling wash over me with its stomach-churning disgust?

He gave me his word that he returned home, so I at least accomplished the goal that I had set out to do. I recommend approaching the exchange with this villain Lillias with great caution. I apologize that I will not be able to engage her directly. But I have entire faith in you and
the others to defeat this creature and rescue the Prophet safely.

My warmest regard to you and yours, and those who are ours as well. Please watch over Kohra, as well, for me.

Sincerely,

Kre'oss

More letters

2008-05-03T23:55:00.004-04:00

Everyone,

I'm sorry I ran off, but I can't just sit Idly by and allow Sparhawk to make his own decisions without Seik. I also cannot allow Alby to die at Lillias' hands. I'm no use to anyone, and certainly a danger to you in any case. It would be better for me to take Alby's place, as I am the most expendable. I've been alone too long and am selfish, I know this, but I can't seem to think any other way. I'm a usurper of Caen'ir's relationship with Kre'oss, and too weak to help with anything beyond this. I'll take Alby's place, and perhaps both his life and Sparhawk's can be spared... Kre'oss... I'm so sorry.... I love you. Divide up my possessions as you see fit. I've left the key with Harold.

Kohra

Of Billberries and Rent-a-rooms (continued)

2008-05-01T22:49:00.003-04:00

The young woman now known as Terli'ru, who not moments before had been visibly enraged by the insolence of the young man was immediately mollified by the sight of her fallen companion, reaching down and shaking him. "Arcyn'ir? H-hey, are you alright? Get up!" Her voice held a note of panic as she continued to try and revive him.

Sighing, Fiel'doras walked over and nudged the man uncerimoniously onto his back, speaking in a rather bored tone, "Arcyn'ir, get up." Seeing no response, still, she kneeled down and poked him roughly in the side, causing him to jerk away and scoot away from her, laughing all the while. Fiel'doras turned to a baffled Terli'ru. "Those were Bilberries. They're edible, and I can't say I'm surprised to see he already knew that."

"Oh, I didn't think you'd actually fall for that one! That was pricele--ow!" Caught up in his delighted laughter, he had failed to notice Terli'ru, her face red with anger, approaching him and was by no means prepared for neither the rough punch he received on his arm, nor the several cuffs following it. Arcyn'ir quickly recovered and held up his hands to protect himself, tossing a pleading "I didn't do anything, save me!" look to Fiel'doras and Caen'ir. The former turned her gaze elsewhere, seeming entirely bent on not getting involved in the situation at all, and the latter felt himself merely smiling apologetically and shrugging, informing his brother that he was, entirely, on his own for this.

"You insensitive ass! I ought to throttle you!" Still looking thoroughly livid, Terli'ru ceased her assault, Arcyn'ir, mock-blocking most of her hits, grinned brightly.

The entire thing felt normal to Caen'ir, as if it was something that happened extremely often between the two. He was struck with a sudden sense of belongingness; this was his home, these people were his family. The feeling gave way to a pang of solitude that left him aching, realization dawning. His home was in ruins, the nearby lands a frozen and barren tundra now. His family was gone and no more, all he had was a brother who seemed impossible to run into, who wouldn't remember him at all. He suddenly felt very alone and isolated in the snow-covered forest, the playful teasing and arguing a dull buzz. After a few moments of this, however, he mentally admonished himself.

I have Kre'oss, I had no love then, I think. This was my home. I have a new home, now. This was my family...I love them dearly, and I will mourn the loss of them, but I still have my brother and my friends...they're my new family. This is my past. I have my love, my home and my family...that is all that I need.

Comforted by this, he became aware of himself shaking his head and walking forwards, following Fiel'doras. The buzz had faded, the arguing apparently having run its course for the time being, and was replaced with Fiel'doras' voice. He was aware of her words, though he did not feel he was paying her any meaningful attention. She was talking about the plant from before--about how to recognize it and its uses. He heard Arcyn'ir's voice chiming in occasionally, it seemed he was just as (or almost as) knowledgeable on the subject as Fiel'doras was.

The voices became quieter, and as he blinked, the world went black and stayed that way as he opened his eyes, sitting up from the rent-a-room bed silently, recalling memories of a pristine land all covered in snow and ice, and of people long since gone...

(( That's it for now. Once again, sorry for the shoddiness, might make more posts like this, might not. *shrugs* ))

Of Billberries and Rent-a-rooms

2008-05-01T00:08:00.002-04:00

Caen'ir twisted about the unfamiliar sheets of the Bastokan rent-a-room. Surprisingly enough, he had fallen asleep almost instantly after curling up on the bed. No sooner had he closed his eyes, the world being naught but darkness, he felt as though he were opening them. Black gave way to a world compromised of white, gray, brown and a dark green; snow gently falling from gray clouds that seemed to encompass the entire sky above him, through a slight cover of snow-covered leaves from ancient trees towering over him. Despite understanding this to most likely be a dream, he couldn't help but feel some joy at the familiar sight, and wished to lower his gaze to see what else lay about...and, yet, despite his desire, he felt he could not move. While he could see, he obviously held no control here. He was content to just continue watching for the time being, his (if it was, indeed, his eyes he was seeing out of) breath visible in the chill. However, it seemed that there were other plans, as he felt someone grab his arm and tug him along. Used to such treatment already, he instead decided to examine his companion through auburn hair that fell in front of his eyes, despite attempts to get it to stay out of the way.

The woman was a head taller than him, a bit on the stout side in build. Her pale blonde hair was bound tightly with a leather throng. She held herself in a disciplined manner, softly pulling Caen'ir (as he was fairly certain, by now, this was him) along with her, slowing her step so he could easily keep up. She glanced back at him, she had a matronly look about her and warm brown eyes. She shook her head in a mock-reproachful fashion, her voice reaching out calmly in the serenity around them.

"You were the one who was so interested in tagging along, you really oughtn't keep us waiting after we allowed you to join us."

"Sorry, Fiel'doras, I was just...distracted." Caen'ir found himself speaking the words without a thought, his face reddening slightly from embarrassment.

"It's alright, you only fell a bit behind, shouldn't take us more than a moment to catch up to the others...just be sure you don't fall back again, alright?" Fiel'doras let go of his arm as she saw him nod in response, and they continued along a scarcely-traveled path through a forest, snow lightly blanketing the ground and the leaves. There were a few smaller plants that managed to grow, despite the cold, flourishing in the pristine forest. They approached two figures crouching down and examining one such plant: A low-growing shrub with green leaves and clusters of purple berries growing on it. The two figures were a man and a woman, both obviously young. The young man shared the same disheveled auburn hair as Caen'ir, short in stature with a lean build, gray eyes that were focused on the plant and an impish grin on his face that seemed entirely natural for him. The young woman was just slightly shorter than the man next to her, black hair falling freely onto her shoulders. She seemed to be frowning at the man, her blue eyes displaying an annoyance as she began to speak.

"Don't. I mean it. You can't just eat something when you've not a clue what it is! It could be poisonous or something, and I'm NOT going to be held responsible if you drop dead from eating poisonous berries! So just cut it out and--" Before she could finish, the man tugged several berries off of the plant and popped them in his mouth defiantly, chewing them and swallowing them quickly to prevent any interruption from his female companion, a look of anger becoming quite evident on her face.

"Pfft, poisoned berries. Terli'ru, you're so paranoid and...crazy...you just...urk!" The young man clutched his stomach, seemingly in pain, falling to the ground unmoving, his eyes closed.

(( Longer than I thought it'd be, so going to post the rest later. Sorry for the shoddiness. D: ))

letter to Alby

2008-04-30T00:32:00.002-04:00

Alby,

It seems lately, my interactions with you end with you stalking off somewhere in a hurumph. You're right though, I don't understand, but how can I when you never give me the chance to try? You're my best friend, despite our shaky start, and I -do- love you. Please come and talk with me?

Your's with all fondness,
Kohra

*delivered by the standard mog mail to his res in bastok*

Wish Lists

2008-04-27T16:25:00.009-04:00

It's that time again guys! Let's keep a running wish list of things we need help with.

Alberic:
Rostrum Pumps
Reverand Mail
Assault Rankups

Kohra:
AF for Samurai (including helmet BC fight)
Soboro Sukehiro
Parade Gorget
Uggly Pendant
Scirocco Kukri

Kermadec:
Scirocco Kukri
Soboro Sukehiro
Breaking Heart Snatcher/Dissector

Caenir:
Uggalepih Pendant
CoP
Windurst Mission 9-2
Rostrum Pumps

Ikari:
Bomb Queen Ring
Joyeuse
Bloodbead Ring
Soboro
Rapparee Harness

Lyall:
Promyvions/CoP
sky (finish ZMs)
Optical Hat
Utsusemi: Ni
Alky Gloves

Rampagesama:
WSNM for Spiral Hell
WSNM for Ground Strike
Ashu Talif Fights for Star Sapphires

Seikatsu:
AN Slivers
Apocalypse Nigh
ToAU42 and 44

Joundi:
Rank missions
Limit break missions
PLD AF (when PLD gets to that level)

If you can think of anything else, let me know!

~Soli~

Welcome Home Alby!!

2008-04-20T02:06:00.010-04:00

May be several hours early, but I wanted to post the picture ya asked for. Happy home comings Alby, we missed you a ton!
-= Seik =-

So I heard you like chatlogs?

2008-04-18T20:23:00.007-04:00

At the Crag of Holla. Anatole = Kohra, Claire = Alby, others should be obvious.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:37 PM):
*wanders around the crag, randomly killing orcs he spies*
   Claire says (6:38 PM):
*Alby emerges from the telepoint, cradling something protectively in his arms, and looks around all surreptitious-like before diving down underneath the crag, giggling to himself*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:39 PM):
*bumps into alby as he jumps down* ack!
   Caen'ir says (6:39 PM):
*turns his head at the sound of the giggling, extremely confused* Um...hello?
   Claire says (6:39 PM):
Hey! WATCH it! *He says with some asperity, lurching forward*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:40 PM):
YOU jumped on MY head!! *frowns*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:41 PM):
*looks at what alby is holding* what's that?
   Claire says (6:41 PM):
I didn't jump on anyone's head, THANK you very much! *He loftily informs Kohra* Maybe if you didn't have such a very POINTY noggin, you wouldn't find people wanting to sit on it.
   Caen'ir says (6:42 PM):
Um... *listening to the argument below, seems unsure of whether or not he should interrupt*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:42 PM):
*grins broadly at alby*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:43 PM):
**he rummages around in his pack, pulling out his O-hat and putting it on* how's this?
   Claire says (6:43 PM):
Oh, this? *He hides the wrapped parcel behind his back quickly* It's... a FIGMENT of your imagination. Wooooo~ *He makes a "mysterious noise" with his mouth*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:44 PM):
*crosses his arms in front of his chest* uh huh... -that's- believable
   Mai Ikari says (6:44 PM):
*teleports in, and takes a look around, waving to Caenir, then noticing Alby and jumping down towards him* Alby!
   Caen'ir says (6:45 PM):
Um....hello, Mai? *mostly to himself at this point, seeing as he's extremely confused as to what's going on*
   Claire says (6:45 PM):
*He helpfully shifts the parcel to one hand, catching and swinging Mai around into him with his other arm* Well what do you know, it's raining hot chicks!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:46 PM):
*steps back out of the way* jeeze!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:46 PM):
*calls up to caenir* if you jump i'm not catching you!!
   Claire says (6:46 PM):
Don't hate, just because I caught myself a hot chick.
   Caen'ir says (6:47 PM):
...alright? *seems to have no intention of jumping*
   Mai Ikari says (6:47 PM):
*clinging to Alby* So where have you been? And what's this thing? *pokes at the imaginary parcel*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:47 PM):
*cranes his neck around, trying to look behind Alby's back at the parcel*
   Claire says (6:48 PM):
*He promptly re-hides the parcel behind his back* What thing? I don't see any "thing" here. Just... a figment of your imagination! Woooo~ *mysterious noise*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:48 PM):
*heads up the path away from Jugner Forest and towards the crag, arms folded behind her head and staring up at the sky in thought*
   Caen'ir says (6:48 PM):
What are you talking about, Alberic? *he sounds even more confused, wondering what shenanigans are occurring down below*
   Mai Ikari says (6:49 PM):
*laughs* Well, if you say so. *to Caenir* And we're just talking about this thing behind Alby's back that doesn't actually exist.
   Claire says (6:49 PM):
I'm not talking about... anything! Just a figment of your imagination! Woooo~
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:49 PM):
*tries to step behind Alby's back*
   Caen'ir says (6:50 PM):
So...we're discussing something behind Alberic's back that doesn't really exist and is just a figment of our imaginations? *seems half-tempted to continue and add the "Whooo~" to the end*
   Claire says (6:50 PM):
*He turns around, Mai in his arms, so that he's always facing Kohra* .... Quit trying to stare at my ass, Kohra. I will NOT let you stick it in.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:51 PM):
*puts his hands on his hips and mock-pouts* but i want to!!
   Claire says (6:51 PM):
I'm married, Kohra! *He says loudly* I like vagoo, what can I say? Peen up the butt isn't my thing.
   Mai Ikari says (6:51 PM):
*looks over to Kohra* Didn't we already cover this in Sandy? If anybody's gonna put it in Alby, it'll be me with a dildo. And he's not interested anyway.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:52 PM):
how do you know if you haven't tried it? *tries to sidestep again behind Alby*
   Caen'ir says (6:52 PM):
U-um.... *seems to decide this is not a part of the conversation he wants to take part in, steers clear of it*
   Claire says (6:53 PM):
*He keeps turning with Kohra, his expression long-suffering*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:54 PM):
*steps forward, attempting to grab alby in a bearhug*
   Mai Ikari says (6:55 PM):
*is in the way of a bearhug, does not want to be part of a bearhug, and shoves out with one hand towards Kohra*
   Claire says (6:55 PM):
*He puts down Mai to keep Kohra away, then turns away, stroking the parcel with a giggle*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:55 PM):
*gets shoved in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs*
   Caen'ir says (6:56 PM):
Um....so, uh, Alberic....what are we "imagining"?
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:56 PM):
*pauses in front of the crag area after spotting the others, letting one arm drop to her side and waving with the other* Hi guys.
   Caen'ir says (6:56 PM):
*in Seik's general direction* Hello, Seik.
   Claire says (6:57 PM):
Seik! *He bounds over to her and scoops her up in a hug, juggling the parcel too*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:57 PM):
*tries to get a better look at what Alby has* hi seik. *distractedly*
   Caen'ir says (6:57 PM):
*gets up and walks down the stairs, down towards where all the ruckus is, instead of bounding down like the previous couple people*
   Mai Ikari says (6:58 PM):
*moves between any attempt Kohra makes to get close to Alby or look at the package, grinning somewhat*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:58 PM):
*seems a little surprised but smiles, hugging back* Hi Alberic, how have you been?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:59 PM):
*tries to scowl at Mai but ends up grinning instead*
   Claire says (6:59 PM):
Peachy-keen, cutiepie. Hmmm, I'm hungry now. How're you and your man-friend? *He ruffles Seik's hair*
   Mai Ikari says (7:00 PM):
*grins wider, and adopts a wide stance like a sumo wrestler* If he says it's your imagination, it's -clearly- your imagination. So stop trying to get up his butt!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:01 PM):
*rummages around in his pack and pulls out a catnips mouse,. dangling it in front of mai for a minute, he then tosses it off to the side, away from alby*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:02 PM):
I haven't seen him for a few days. But I think he is okay. *shakes he head slightly at having her hair ruffled*
   Mai Ikari says (7:02 PM):
*wide eyes, ears and tail twitching, trying very hard to resist the catnip*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:03 PM):
*pulls out another one, and tosses it over with the other*
   Claire says (7:03 PM):
*He goes over to the catnip mouse then stuffs it into his pants, then catches the second one and does the same*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:03 PM):
*bursts out laughing*
   Caen'ir says (7:03 PM):
*approaching the group, shaking his head, an amused smile playing on his face*
   Mai Ikari says (7:04 PM):
*immediately goes for the catnip in Alby's pants*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:04 PM):
*takes the opportunity to get closer to alby's "package"*
   Claire says (7:06 PM):
*He smirks as his wife basically starts nosing at his crotch in front of everyone, and dodges Kohra's attempt to grab his... parcel* Quit it, Kohra.
   Caen'ir says (7:07 PM):
*listening curiously to the sounds of what's going on, still a bit confused at what, specifically, is going on*
   Mai Ikari says (7:07 PM):
*pulls both mice out of Alby's pants, pokes once at his pants, then starts chewing on the mice*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:09 PM):
Quit what? *teasingly* you're clearly imagining things Alby.
   Claire says (7:09 PM):
Awww.... *He sounds disappointed when Mai takes the mice out of his pants* And clearly I'm not imagining you getting all up ins my personal space, Kohra.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:10 PM):
*takes a huge step forward* like this?
   Caen'ir says (7:10 PM):
Um...Seik? What's going on, right now?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:10 PM):
Alby has an imaginary package! *he says very loudly*
   Mai Ikari says (7:11 PM):
*thinks while chewing, puts one mouse back in Alby's pants, holding the other in her mouth, and gets between Alby and Kohra again*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:11 PM):
*one ear droops out of confusion* I just got here Caenir. I really have no idea.
   Caen'ir says (7:12 PM):
So...it's akin to the usual, then.
   Claire says (7:12 PM):
Oh Maaaai~ *He purrs at her back* I've got catnip in my crotch. Here, kitty kitty.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:13 PM):
*nods* yes, no one can see it! *grinning at alby*
   Caen'ir says (7:13 PM):
*puts a hand to his head, shaking it*
   Claire says (7:15 PM):
*He starts dancing, grinding his crotch at Mai, doing little hip-thrusts, holding his parcel up over his head*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:15 PM):
*sits down, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands and watches the show*
   Mai Ikari says (7:15 PM):
Mut if I go afer fat one, Kora will fe in fa way afain. *talking with mouth full*
   Mai Ikari says (7:16 PM):
*though paying very close attention*
   Claire says (7:17 PM):
*He pulls down his pants to the point where the mouse's tail is visible over his waistband, still grooving* Ooh baby, ooh baby~ *singing*
   Caen'ir says (7:19 PM):
*opens his mouth as if to ask, but just as quickly closes it once more*
   Mai Ikari says (7:20 PM):
*mouse drops to the floor, stares for a moment, then dives at him*
   Claire says (7:21 PM):
*He laughs and pets Mai's head, letting her retrieve the mouse* You're adorable. I'd say let's go home and fuck, but there's kids around.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:22 PM):
*mock-shock* you have kids?
   Claire says (7:22 PM):
Not yet, Kohra.
   Caen'ir says (7:22 PM):
*doesn't bother arguing he's not a kid to Alberic, having already given up that argument*
   Mai Ikari says (7:22 PM):
Mut you fad it anyway. *nods, chewing on the mouse only half-removed from his pants*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:23 PM):
YET?! you can't seriously be thinking of being a father?
   Claire says (7:23 PM):
*He gives Kohra a mildly perplexed look* My dear Kohra, for one thing, why shouldn't I be a father? I'd be like... the coolest dad on the block.
   Caen'ir says (7:23 PM):
Alberic would be a fine father, I'm sure. A bit...odd, but still.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:23 PM):
*looks horror-stricken*
   Mai Ikari says (7:24 PM):
*is not looking in Kohra's direction or there would be punching*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:24 PM):
*opens his mouth to say something, then promptly changes his mind*
   Claire says (7:24 PM):
And secondly, unless the future changes again, Mai's not getting pregnant til right before I shuffle off this mortal coil anywho. *He pats Mai absently on the head* So whomever her next beau will be will get to do all the responsible parenting.
   Mai Ikari says (7:25 PM):
*ears droop for a moment, but perk back up at the petting*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:26 PM):
*goes to sit down on the crag steps, looking up for a moment at the parcel Alby is holding*
   Claire says (7:27 PM):
*He tilts his head to the side, looking almost sad for a moment--not at what he said, but at everyone's reactions, his gaze lingering longest on Kohra. Then he detaches the mouse from his pants, poking it into Mai's mouth, and strolls off*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:28 PM):
ok...so seriously. what's the thing? *points to the burlap-wrapped package in alby's hand*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:28 PM):
*gets up, trotting over to Alby* what's wrong Alby?
   Caen'ir says (7:29 PM):
*seems confused* What's going on?
   Claire says (7:29 PM):
*He doesn't answer Kohra, already halfway to the Jugner zone*
   Mai Ikari says (7:30 PM):
*chases after Alby, not showing much sign of reaction*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:31 PM):
*reaches for alby's "non-package" arm*
   Caen'ir says (7:31 PM):
*follows the sounds of footsteps as best he can, unsure of the situation*
   Claire says (7:32 PM):
*He shies away from either Mai or Kohra touching him*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:33 PM):
*out of breath* Alby! what's going on with you?
   Claire says (7:33 PM):
*He stops, looking back at Kohra, his expression difficult to read--perhaps angry, perhaps just lonely*
   Mai Ikari says (7:34 PM):
*follows close beside Alby, keeping just enough distance so he doesn't shy away again*
   Caen'ir says (7:34 PM):
*has a bit of trouble keeping up, but tries his best not to fall too far behind the sound of Mai's footfalls*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:34 PM):
*stops, trying to catch his breath and looking up at Alby perplexed*
   Claire says (7:35 PM):
What, does it blow your mind when you're a dick to someone and they actually do something about it, Kohra? *His tone is more pitying than angry*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:35 PM):
why...are you... always...running away...for me? *huffs*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:36 PM):
what... are you...talking about?
   Claire says (7:36 PM):
Gee, let's think. *He puts on a mock-pensive expression, humming the Jeopardy! theme* Could it be.... that you were a dick to me?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:37 PM):
*looks up, confused*
   Claire says (7:38 PM):
Wow, you really DON'T get it. Let me spell it out for you. W-H-A-T Y-O-U S-A-I-D W-A-S R-E-A-L-L-Y F-U-C-K-I-N-G R-U-D-E. *He sketches out the letters in the air*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:38 PM):
when?!
   Claire says (7:38 PM):
And unlike Caenir, I don't take it when you get like that.
   Claire says (7:39 PM):
*He gives Kohra an angrily withering look* When did I leave?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:39 PM):
about being a father? come on alby, you're as much in line to be a good father as i am!
   Mai Ikari says (7:40 PM):
*glares at Kohra, and hugs Alby*
   Claire says (7:40 PM):
*He smirks a moment--then rears back and spits in Kohra's face, before turning and walking off again*
   Caen'ir says (7:40 PM):
Alberic may be eccentric at times, but he'd make a wonderful father. *his voice holds a slight note of anger*
   Mai Ikari says (7:41 PM):
*follows again*
   Caen'ir says (7:42 PM):
*hearing footsteps going away once more, turns to the general direction of Kohra's voice and addresses him calmly* Kohra.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:42 PM):
*stares off blankly for a moment, then shouts, wiping the spit off his face* i can just see you both getting parent of the year. Miss punch -a-lot teaching her kid to...punch things and you teaching them how to talk to furniture!! *turns around and storms off*
   Claire says (7:43 PM):
*He flips off Kohra over his shoulder and keeps walking*
   Caen'ir says (7:43 PM):
*quickly follows after Kohra, trying to catch up to him, trusting Mai to comfort Alby*
   Mai Ikari says (7:43 PM):
Don't listen to him Alby.... *one fist clenched*
   Caen'ir says (7:44 PM):
Kohra! *moving as quickly as he can to keep up with his footsteps, risks a grab at where he /hopes/ Kohra's arm is*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:45 PM):
*allows his arm to be grabbed, but keeps walking*
   Caen'ir says (7:45 PM):
*tries to pull Kohra to a stop, succeeding only in being dragged along* Stop it!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:45 PM):
*whirls on Caenir, accidentally knocking him over* STOP WHAT CAENIR?!
   Claire says (7:46 PM):
*He stops, tilting his head, then looks at Mai* Go help Caenir. *It's not a request, it's clearly an order*
   Caen'ir says (7:46 PM):
*knocked over, he maintains a look of suprise for a moment before scrambling up uncerimoniously, looking rather angry* Stop what? Stop WHAT?! Stop being a jackass to my friends!
   Mai Ikari says (7:47 PM):
Uh... *nods, lowering her head* Okay.
   Caen'ir says (7:47 PM):
Who the HELL tells someone they'd make a horrible parent like that?! Alberic may be odd at times, but he'd make a DAMN fine father! *he pokes at where he believes Kohra's chest to be*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:47 PM):
if he can't handle the truth, that's his problem.
   Caen'ir says (7:47 PM):
The truth? The truth is that you're even more blind than /I/ am if you can't see Alberic would be a fine parent!
   Caen'ir says (7:48 PM):
Eccentricities don't equate to parenting skills, I /know/ Alberic would do anything in his power to keep any child of his safe.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:48 PM):
caenir, he has a dragon taking over his mind. how long before bahamut decides to roast his kid for fun?
   Caen'ir says (7:49 PM):
I somehow doubt that Bahamut would do that. *he's speaking with a strained tone, as though he's patiently explaining something to a child*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:49 PM):
uh-huh, yeah, /that's/ believable.
   Caen'ir says (7:50 PM):
If Bahamut killed his child, it would be problematic for HIM. He would not do that.
   Mai Ikari says (7:50 PM):
LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU! *covering her ears with her hands, then drops them* Am I right, Kohra?
   Claire says (7:50 PM):
*Alberic heads into Jugner, letting everyone else fight it out*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:51 PM):
*looks up at mai* oh, come back to punch me for good measure? well, here i am, get it over with then fuck off.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:52 PM):
*stands with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot*
   Caen'ir says (7:52 PM):
*gritting his teeth slightly* Kohra. I told you to stop it already.
   Mai Ikari says (7:52 PM):
No, I came back because Alby said to. If I punch you, you'll get off to it.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:53 PM):
fine. you two done? *turns to leave*
   Caen'ir says (7:53 PM):
Are you going to leave my friends be?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:54 PM):
you're the one that stopped me caen'ir, i have nothing more to say. *calls over his shoulder while walking towards the chocobo rentals*
   Caen'ir says (7:55 PM):
Nnn... *putting a hand to his head, seems to be developing a slight headache* Is Alberic okay, Mai?
   Mai Ikari says (7:56 PM):
I think so... Thanks for trying to knock some sense into him.
   Caen'ir says (7:57 PM):
I didn't. I was trying to talk some sense into him. It seems that I lost my temper, though....sorry.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (8:01 PM):
*rents a chocobo and makes for ronfaure*
   Mai Ikari says (8:01 PM):
Didn't really sound like it.
   Caen'ir says (8:02 PM):
Well, I did...
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (8:02 PM):
*Seik is still sitting back at the crag, tapping her heels on a lower step and staring off into space, though she watches for a moment as Kohra runs past*
   Mai Ikari says (8:03 PM):
All I heard was you saying perfectly reasonable things, and Kohra sticking his fingers in his ears and yelling LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU.
   Caen'ir says (8:04 PM):
I guess...
   Mai Ikari says (8:06 PM):
*pokes at Caenir* What happened to that earlier enthusiasm? Was kinda nice to hear you talking like you really cared.
   Caen'ir says (8:07 PM):
*squirms away from the poke* W-well, he was being a jerk to Alberic when Alberic didn't deserve that treatment at all...he didn't seem to understand that, so I figured I should set him straight on the matter.
   Mai Ikari says (8:10 PM):
It's like arguing with a cermet wall, I know. Again, thanks for trying, did a better job than I could.
   Caen'ir says (8:11 PM):
It was no problem...just sorry I didn't seem to get through to him. *sounds apologetic*
   Mai Ikari says (8:12 PM):
*shrugs* Like I said, cermet wall. I can't get through to him, Alby can't get through to him, -you- can't get through to him, doubt anybody actually can.
   Mai Ikari says (8:12 PM):
Besides maybe Kreoss, but that doesn't seem likely to happen.
   Caen'ir says (8:13 PM):
Well...maybe we just need to try some more?
   Mai Ikari says (8:14 PM):
Maybe. Throw something at the wall enough times and maybe it'll stick.
   Caen'ir says (8:16 PM):
I...guess that's /one/ way of putting it.
   Mai Ikari says (8:19 PM):
*glances back at Jugner, looking worried*
   Caen'ir says (8:19 PM):
I guess there's no point in staying here, now...
   Caen'ir says (8:19 PM):
I'm going to go back to the crag, Mai.
   Mai Ikari says (8:20 PM):
I'lll... go looking for Alby again. See ya Cae.
   Caen'ir says (8:21 PM):
Seeya later, Mai. *heads off in the general direction of the crag, once more*

I think I got all of the OOC and major spelling errors out of there.

~Mai~

Finding Emptiness.

2008-04-18T12:04:00.004-04:00

Kohra sat at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the vast grasslands of East Sarutabaruta during the time of the Crystal Wars. He had come here, despite his long-time stance of non-interference, in the hopes of finding some deeper meaning, some understanding. Yet all he felt was empty and hollow. He had not found the answers he had expected to find here. And worse, he had inadvertently risked his tenuous friendship with Caen'ir. He sighed and rested his head on his knees, hugging his legs in an all too familiar hunch. His armour dug into his cheek sharply, but he paid it no mind.

Upon entering through the Maw in East Sarutabaruta, he had felt surreal, and out of place. He had talked Caen'ir into bringing him back, to show him where he had found Kre'oss. The city had left him feeling just the same. Kohra had expected a tale of love, that Kre'oss' connection to Caen'ir in the future is what had brought him back to the present. How foolish he had been. Of course the Kre'oss of these times had no feelings for Caen'ir, how could he? And how disappointed Kohra had been when he'd found it was anger and vengeance that had driven Kre'oss to come back. Because that witch, Zald'eana, had taken on the form of the Dawn Maiden. Kohra scoffed at his childishness.

And then Kohra had forced the issue on Caen'ir of whether he and Kre'oss had made love. Why did he do that? It didn't verify or discount his theory of why Kre'oss had disappeared recently, regardless of what the answer was. At the time all Kohra could think of was himself, and prying the answer out of Caen'ir, unaware or uncaring of the consequences. He groaned at the memory. And now he had driven a wedge between himself and Caen'ir, when he had been trying so hard to form a friendship. And besides that, Kre'oss would be very non-plussed about Kohra's behaviour.

Kohra had somehow managed to place himself in the position he had sworn to himself throughout his life never to be in. One of interference.

It's quiet here, Kohra thought to himself. This is as good a place as any to figure out how fix this...