observeroflaplace

[observeroflaplace]

Playmaker, but with Yusaku's (and Ai's!) colouring <3

Pose is taken from a product image of the Playmaker Figma figure

[observeroflaplace]

CALAMITY

[observeroflaplace]

Eorzea Academy's resident Onee-san has a secret from her Academy of Darkness days she'd rather keep buried...

#ffxiv #eorzea academy #viera #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #Sviette Aurum

[observeroflaplace]

Forgive me my million ishgard reblogs but I’ve been working on an Ishgard alt and Ishgard fc for the last …. Week or so? Speedrunning through heavenward and trying to get the fc rank up enough to get a small to furnish.

I didn’t want to ditch my main fc or rebrand it and I didn’t want to pay for skips so I’ve just been putting in time and effort to replay the story and get through content to where I want to be.

Hopefully once it’s to a point where I’m happy with it, I can level additional alts into the family and finally write up the additional lore and texts to it.

Main idea of intregue is a succession crisis between my of Victoria and @observeroflaplace ‘s character Gilberaux, I’ve already posted a bit about it and I know they have too - maybe I should make a separate blog or tag for this project? Idk. Could be fun to make and code. I’m also thinking of making a couple additional writings for if people want to join in on the project. Things like A family tree, rough lore on their background / what they do / where things are located in actuality . And like, the requirements to joining in on it - I will probably have a guide to making your own Comete.

I intend to have genes and some sort of visual guide if someone wants to make an alt directly related as I still want to be lore compliant and not give this house a reputation of being a mongrel hive - but I also want to give people the opportunity to join even if they don’t want to be Elezen or Hyur. (So maybe Soilders? Maidservants? Idk)

I also should remake / redesign the Comete coat of arms because I had it drawn up but now that I’ve realised that in game you can have a Swan insignia I’ve wanted to do that instead ( I honestly love Swan Lake and the vibes of it don’t come for me)

I’ll probably wake up tommorrow and yell at myself because I wrote this instead of sleeping but eh. I’m a grown woman and my friends are asleep - I need something to ramble at or I’ll go mad.

#Gilberaux Cometé #Victoria Cometé

[observeroflaplace]

Library Date

#ffxiv #gpose #izayoi rks #Mielikki Metsalainen

[observeroflaplace]

Smoke and Ashes

Air singed by sulfur and ash.

Ground seared black and gray, save for red-hot embers and coals, lining the surface of many a crater like veins in scoured flesh.

Nearby, a lalafell in a dusty blue poncho lays against a Boulder, just out of range of the devastation before her.  Beside her stands ger staff, propped against the selfsame Boulder as she, with a wide brimmed hat propped upon it.

She closes her eyes and inhales a more aromatic smoke from her pipe.  She feels the baking heat from the results of her work even from here, but it bothers her little.

As the smoke from her handiwork gradually fades, leaving only the white vapours from her own pipe, the immediate air beside her snaps forth like a dark curtain  behind reality, hastily opened and unceremoniously shut thereafter.  Without turning to its source, she waves in the direction of the disturbance - a cowering imp.

“I’m going to guess it’s another assignment already?”

“Y-yes, Pyroma-“

Finally, she reopens her eyes, somewhere between a quizzical squint and the beginnings of a glare, as she turns slightly in the direction of the imp.  Her staff shudders to life, as though ready to leap into the air of its own volition.

The imp squeaks in fear.

“Lady Hahano, yes!  The Coven has… new orders.”

“Do you know any specifics?”

“O-only that your quarry is… an Arch Demon.”

Hahano sighs, upending the herbs and tobacco from her pipe.  She stands, holding out her other hand, and her staff follows.  She plucks the hat perched upon it and straightens the brim on her head as she moves, staff hovering at her side, more akin to a loyal attendant than a weapon at present.

“Normally, miscreants of this scale would be above my pay grade. It is passing fortunate then that for all its might, this is a singular foe, and one with little ability to command others in kind. Do pass on to dearest Cessair that I expect proper payment for his underling’s mistakes, and be sure not to get any ideas you’ll regret, little one.”

The imp scowls.

———-

With a guttural roar approaching laughter in the distance, swords and axes bearing designs of fallen nations, as well as Mhachi and Nymean make, rain down from the sky.  Following this are the death throes of footsoldiers and the sinking of steel into flesh.  Though many buy time with magical barriers, even shielding their once-foes, soldiers of the Amdapori fort and Mhachi mages and sword-sorcerers alike fall to attrition from the blades, hurled with enough force to even pierce the battlements themselves.  Though the unlikely and desperate union between foes served to weaken the beast, in the end they could only slow down the inevitable; and worse, with each life taken, the Arch Demon merely bellowed in delight, feasting upon the aether of the fallen.  The massacre continued until naught had a strong enough flame of aether to warrant draining or snuffing out.

Crouched low beneath browned ferns, momentarily hidden from the chaos and crumbling fortifications, a starving kitten looks on.  Emaciated and sickly, it was likely she, in her cover and weakness, was very much beneath the notice of the demon for now; but she remained in danger of crossfire.  Her eyes are wide, filled with conflicting emotion; desperation, as even those poor fallen soldiers may yet save her life through sustenance, and fear of the otherworldly monster before her.

It was not as though she had any ill will towards the bipedal creatures falling before her.  She simply wishes, desperately, to live.

At this rate however, she did not even possess the strength to crawl out of hiding to try.

——————

Cracked horns and animalistic eyes gaze out to the horizon, and bellow in strained frustration.  A starving creature lamented its ravaged flesh, scoured by wind gouged by ice and singed by flame and levin.  Though these sounds were beginning to heal from its feast, it is clear at a glance that its recent victims took a toll on the Arch Demon.

Still, this did not guarantee that a beast of the Fourth Rung could be slain.  The vitality robbed from its prey would, before long, mend that which was broken and seared anew.

The air shifts and bends, and what dried and aether-starved vegetation looked near enough ready to catch aflame at any moment.  Clearly in response to this sudden heat haze and rise in temperature, the voidsent snarls and rears its head, searching for the source of this cloying heat.  Its senses of the aether did not serve it here, as the umbral heat bathing the area all around it occluded life within its radius.

The Arch Demon does not initially catch sight of its approaching challenger, suddenly forced to rely on mere sight and sound.  A measly Mhachi Lalafel; little different from the ones it had slain by the dozen shortly prior.

With her hat firmly in place and staff hovering at her side, Hahano stands behind the cover of a barricade and gestures, her staff twirling in kind.

Her foe’s ears twitch, and it turns, reeling with impatient agitation, expending a portion of its recently ill-gotten stamina to manifest and hurl dozens of blades to skewer this newfound and approaching prey.  Eliminate the threat first, then tend to wounds from the gains of her defeat. A sound tactic for such a creature whose high rank stems not from its intellect or acumen, but from raw offensive power.  Indeed, the blades land, skewering a wooden wall with a flurry of pronounced thuds; the wood splintering helplessly, and many simply shredding it.  The falling material exposes the sight of an impaled lalafell, bloody and wide-eyed in shock.

The Arch Demon slowly approaches; unable to sense her aether through the shroud of heat, but cautious.  Perhaps the magicks were woven by another?  Or perhaps-

Back turned, the lumbering creature is met with a sudden explosion.  Then another, and another in kind.

Furiously, the beast conjures another volley of blades; more numerous, but less dense; flung at a wider area.  Its foes trick, now exposed, fades into motes of light, and wood and stone alike are shattered and torn.

Hahano, in her anticipation, called forth a wall of aether in her defense; however, she knew her cover had been blown; not least by the shallow depths of the blades penetrating the wooden barricade before her.

Breaking down the manifested weaponry to siphon what aether it could, the voidsent readied another volley; though it paused, noting something off.  While much would invariably be lost to the environment - something to sup more slowly later, it grunts from unexpected exertion; digging deeper from its wellspring of power to bolster the number of blades.  It would surely matter little, as it had found its prey.

Steel poured down like rain, and it was by the skin of her teeth by which Hahano escaped more than skin-deep cuts.  Her staff rockets close to the voidsent, manipulating much of the aether from the decomposition of the initial blades, and tapping into what connection to the currents of aether remained in this blighted, exhausted battlefield.  Riding that connection, Hahano glided swiftly to where her staff lay planted into the ground, channeling the siphoned excess into it.

“You aren’t that special you know…”. She grunted.

The voidsent, with a large stride, reaches out to grab the diminutive Mage.  It opens its mouth.  The air grows colder.

“You think that… because you broke free, that there’s nothing here to stop you.  N-no bigger fish…”

The beast draws in the aether of its surroundings; starvation and desperation bringing it to the point of simply seeking to drink deep of the land, and of this pest, and be done with her; speed and efficiency be damned for a time.

“…You’re all the same.  Hungry and arrogant.  Every last one of you.”

Unhinging its jaws, the Arch Demon brings Hahano closer to its mouth to silence her, even as the light of devoured ambient aether grows within its body.  Glowing, scintillating, in all its power; more densely than even it anticipated.

“So take what you want!  Just don’t blame me for what comes after!”

Hahano, with what strength remained in her, braces herself.  Her staff flies in front of her, manifesting a wall of force, not to anticipate the voidsent’s bite, but against a sudden, erupting gout of flame.  The voidsent’s expression shifts from sated and confident, to wide eyed and afraid, mere moments before its head and throat vanish in a dense conflagration, the aether it consumed bursting violently in its gullet.

Even with her defenses, Hahano is hurled yalms back into the dry dirt; for better or worse, many of her cuts sealed by the heat of her last resort attack.  Truly exhausted, Hahano lays helpless on her back for a time, head obscured from the beating sun above by singed ferns.  She tries to close her eyes, breathing deeply of air that provided little strength, and coughing from the soot and smoke of her last attack.  Her descent into sleep was interrupted by some sort of impassioned… squeaking?  Or perhaps the desperate cry of some equally exhausted animal…

————-

Some bells later, a familiar looking imp scavenges the surroundings, this time accompanied by a spectral chain, held by a Hyuran man. Occasionally it finds itself yanked back towards its master, until finally the pair reach the ruined Amdapori fort.  They step over bodies of friend and foe alike; dried and drained, practically reduced to dust as though worm-bitten and emaciated beyond the reach of rot, despite their recent demise.

Many corpses clung together, far too tightly to have grown limp with decay.  Hand in hand, facing their demise, it was clear that many sought comfort against the abyss of death.  The man’s brow rises as he sees even Amdapori and Mhachi soldiers both, in their caress of finality.

The bodies farther in grew increasingly dismembered and ambiguous, and many scorched.

Towards an open clearing, the imp chuckles at the husk of the once great Arch Demon.

“High and mighty, brought low. I wonder if they managed to do it without her afterall…”

It was met with another yank of the aetherial chain around its neck.

“You know well that we are here to make an objective report, Aphelion.  Besides, you know the signs of her handiwork as well as I.”

The imp scowls and shrinks back, grumbling.

“I hope we find her carcass…”

With further searching, scavenging, the pair finally reach the far side of the fort.  Therein the silence of their work is broken by a slight coughing; the agitated undulations of a throat in withdrawal.

“Good that you- finally got here.”

Aphelion’s scowl deepens with disappointment.  The Hyur, meanwhile, simply raises his hand in greeting, with a barely perceptible smirk.

“Has the smoke finally gotten to you, Hahano?  Or perhaps, you decided to quit those herbs of yours?”

Hahano sputters.

“I’m fresh out, I’m afraid.  I’d ask you for more, but for now… do you have any rations?  Preferably meat.”  She grins, tauntingly at Aphelion.

The imp opens its mouth in preparation of protest, but is interrupted by the Hyur approaching to hand Hahano a piece of cured aurochs meat; one of the few scavenged supplies left in the decimated fortress, and some of the even more scarce that was not some jewel or arcane relic.

Upon receiving the morsel, however, Hahano does not take a bite.  Rather, from within her tattered cloak, a pitch black kitten mewls in hunger, peeking its head from beneath the fabric.  Gradually, Hahano feeds the feeble creature, until somewhat satisfied, it gains the strength to climb and rest on her shoulder.

“I didn’t take you for one for familiars.”

Hahano shakes her head.

“I’m not trying to follow Cessair’s example, if that’s what you’re thinking.  Honestly, I just respect this little thing’s tenacity.”

“Regardless of what you do with it, I’m gladdened to see you still alive.  What would we do without our corps’ most infamous Cleaner?”

Hahano grumbles.

“So, your report?”

“Due to the severity of the renegade voidsent’s onslaught, and the small scale nature of the fortifications, minimal acquisitions were made.  A survey team might have better luck.  As for suspected treason…”. The man’s gaze turns to the bodies behind Hahano and her newly acquired cat.  Similar to the far side, many were recognisably intact, and showed signs of embrace and mutual consolation between sides in their dying moments.  “They remain… inconclusive.”

Hahano shoots the man a glare.

“You know well that brushing that sort of thing under the rug might have us both hanged, right?”

He nods.

“It is hard to say which side deserted to whom, at present, especially under the duress of a denizen of the fourth rung.  Still, it makes me hope that our foes will see reason before it is too late…”

Hahano sighs.

“…So they’re really doing it?  Deploying that thing?”

“Cessair will do what is needed of her.  As I hope you will continue to, Pyromancer.”

Hahano grumbles, watching the man and his familiar vanish into a tear in space.  Her hand idly reaches to her shoulder to touch the kitten, which nuzzles its cheek against her fingers.

“Alright Liko.  Let’s get moving.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #Hahano Hano #Liko the Cat

[observeroflaplace]

A bunny and an illusionist on an adventure, seeking mystery and truth.

Now where have I seen that before here?

And those ribbons. I wonder what those imply?

#Pokemon #Pokemon Mystery Dungeon #Izayoi RKS #Mielikki Metsalainen #AU

[observeroflaplace]

You can always lean on me, sweetheart.

Whenever you need it.

(Mielikki is my bun, raen is @observeroflaplace, together as the science lesbians and their slowly-made house)

#Izayoi RKS #Mielikki Metsalainen

[observeroflaplace]

Hey! I'm looking for commissions to help contribute to my wedding costs! If you could spare some change or even a reblog I'd be much appriciated thank you!

https://ko-fi.com/feelingkoi/commissions

[observeroflaplace]

Chainsaw Insect

To me, this is peak hilarious insect design. "Alright, we're gonna make another insect monster that looks sorta like Saber Beetle and Anteatereatingant, what ideas do we got this time?" "...Chainsaw?" -nodding- "Chainsaw." Like, aside from the fact that this is a literal bug with said chainsaws for mandibles, the physics of this have to be insane, especially because there is not just a single chainsaw here, but two of them. Someone looped two entire wicked cutting chains essentially through this bug's head and that's completely crazy. These have to be endlessly revved up chainsaws, because there is absolutely no physical way that this thing could start them again should they stop. Can I also say? Apart from the hilarity of the chainsaws, this is actually a pretty rad design. Sleek and well defined features all around.

Rating: 10/10, Does this guy have... Chaincers? Mandisaws? Chaindibles?

[observeroflaplace]

Diary Entry

The Shroud, the 1st

[Continued from a previous story]

The voidsent threat has ended, though too late I fear.

Lisoux followed the trail from Coerthas to the Shroud. Reports of missing persons had been filling the Shroud, plenty of them female. Now that I am hunting voidsent alongside him I have taken it seriously, researching the demons that plague Eorzea. I knew that the missing women were a sign of a possible succubus. We had to be careful. Toward the higher ratings of danger, I wasn't willing to be reckless.

As we stalked the paths through the Central Shroud we found piles of bodies... Piles and piles. Bile came to my throat at the stench and the sight of them. As a healer, I have seen many things, but nothing like this. Not outside of war. There were almost thirty bodies.

Lisoux marked each location on his map and warned us not to touch them. Who knows what foul thing could happen if we intervened with foul magic — the Adders would be delivered to the locations to retrieve carefully, and the four of us continued onward toward the Manor to find our mark.

We were fortunate that we all experienced, were careful, and could handle the succubus. It was a fierce fight but one with no serious casualties. Of that I am grateful.

Later that evening we took to the First Steps to rest. Plenty of other adventurers had taken to the guild, some faces I have not seen for some moons. The leader of the Brazen Few who I recognised from the Trailblazers expeditions. Phoenicia from the Tribe lounge and bar. Familiar friends and faces, like Thel and Aynah and Crail. So many more were there to celebrate Heavensturn, and the basement was filled with duels. I'm twenty gil down now from my bets... But better to be twenty gil than two thousand.

Aynah spoke to me about a curious matter, and I confided in her too in things I have confided with you, diary. It felt good to speak about it out loud.

I must remember to send Lisoux the wine we drank...

La Noscea, the 2nd

I received my Heavensturn fortune today.

Gridania, the 3rd

[On the next page is a flyer taken from the Gridanian adventure guild.]

I was surprised to see this when I ventured into Gridania today. After the conversations I had with Aynah and the others at the First Steps on [Monday], and the Heavensturn fortune I received, I can't help but feel this is for me. I've taken the risk. I don't think I've stopped sweating since I responded to it. 

(Credit to Faye Aldean)

[The delusional Viera hasn't noticed the various puns alluding to a Roegadyn...]

[observeroflaplace]

Year of the Drago(o)n

[observeroflaplace]

[observeroflaplace]

as my good friend and i like to remind each other:

don't yuck people's yum. if you do so, at least keep it in the dms. no point in making people feel absolutely miserable for liking a certain thing, for having an oc you don't like - whatever it is. people constantly hating just for the sake of hating truly sour the fandom experience on social medias. there's a problem if the only way you feel better is by making others feel like crap.

and you, who shares the things you love online, who creates original characters and talks about their ships - know that you will never be able to please everyone and that's okay. don't let it stop you from sharing what you love, if it brings you happiness then keep doing it. you don't owe anyone anything, if what you like somehow upsets people, they can very easily just block you and move on. it's really that simple!

#A good reminder to take to heart #yes even for me

[observeroflaplace]

Part 6 - Origins Ever After

Proxy.  That’s what that thing said.

My mind races to the letters on my back that Shelke pointed out.  That she could only make out part of them.  That some were faded or obscured.

[…R O X Y  S A T Y P…]

I knew the name Roxy was nothing more than a make-do label.  I knew it wasn’t even a real name.  I knew I hadn’t so much as worn it for more than a few turns of the sun.

Still, it felt as though something within my heart shattered.  The glass dug into my soul, and from its wounds, I wept in place.  I screamed from the bottom of my diaphragm.

How did this thing know what I was?  Did it know my past?  Did I even possess one to begin with?  Deep down, as I asked these questions, in the pit of my stomach, in the core of my very being, I knew the truth.  A truth which on some level, I had been avoiding.

I was not born of this star, nor of its people.  I was no more than a golem shaped from the clay of this thing’s putrid flesh and cast into the world.

“It appears that you have successfully developed, archetype S.A. Type.  Partial core activation… How very familiar.  It appears then, that I was wrong to cast you out as a failure too soon.  Perhaps that is our fate…”

The thing slithered forwards into a leaning position above me to peer closer.  The shell of pearlescent metal simply thudded, lifeless, like a great coffin attempting to bury it.

“Undoubtedly you have questions of your creation…”

The thing’s back lurched and swole like a puss-filled cyst, expanding slowly until it grew to the size of the warped torso smirking at me.

“No?  But your core’s data would lack the knowledge of the project..  Or perhaps, you’ve simply realised on your own?  Still, I shall banish all of your doubts.”

The protrusion began to pulse, separately from “his” own heartbeat.

It eventually stopped, and from it dropped a lifeless body that fell to the floor with a distinct “thud”.  It lay there, motionless, save for slow, methodical breathing.  

I gazed upon it.

The strands of off-red hair.  Scarlet eyes.  The slender and middling build and height.

It was me.

“A piteous and jealous man once clamored after everything the former Legatus of the VIIth wielded.  Power, a family of followers… and the Ultima Weapon.  His early attempts at mockeries of that Allagan device lay beyond his reach, and he knew this.  He knew the limits of his intellect.  Thus it dawned upon him; if combat data could construct the strategies and performance of combatants, then surely one such Warmachina could simulate the great mind of a scientist who fell in the Ala Mhigan revolution.  Of my mind.”

I tried to glare at him.  I could only feel myself blink.

“Regrettably, this shell of mine was little more than a winged prison.  The pilot’s skills and the body’s mobility were at odds.  She crashed, and with it, almost doomed me before my birth.  We were abandoned shortly thereafter.  It appears my consciousness had not fully developed, even when my core, the Synthetic Auracite within me, began to stir.  It took moons for my brilliant mind to piece the fragments together, but piece them together it did.  I evolved, taking what I needed from her withering body.  If nothing else, she provided valuable nutrients before her time was up.”

So then, that was it.  Perhaps that is why this amalgam’s spawn appeared as it did.

“Know that despite the many fragmented cores left in my care for development, that you are in the presence of Aulus Mal Asina.  The pinnacle of Garlean minds, reborn.  But we can both agree that this vessel will hardly do; and so it is without question that I sought to transfer my core to a smaller, more mobile vessel.  Some functionality will of course be lost in a smaller core; you are testament to that.  No matter, Sas Aurum.  I shall yet iterate.”

“Sas Aurum”.  The name of a Tribunus.  One who fell in battle during the civil war, following the mad prince’s ascension.

Sviette Sas Aurum.  The Grey Jackal.

One whose eyes I gazed through.  Whose hands held her blade as she did.  Whose might and skill and equipment were bestowed unto me as memory.  As a mere fake.  A shadow on the wall, mistaken for a chosen one of the realm.

Was it a coincidence then?  Was the Viera I glimpsed in passing her?  Her name was similar, I think.  Was my first friendship simply the result of my crude emulation of another?

Rather than wail, I shouted, though my lips did not curl them into words.  They did, however, twist into a snarl.

“I alone understand your anguish, Sas Aurum.  We who are born from the shadows of others have no hope of escaping them.  Know that it is foolish to turn your fury to me, my puppet.  And know that by defying the odds and serving my rebirth, you have my gratitude… And my pride.”

I spit.  I twitch and I struggle.

“Thank you, for your services…”

Aulus lowers his gaze.  It is clear he isn’t willing to take any chances with my resistance, as a Vulcan cannon whirs to life, fighting against the rubble to open from a hatch.  Likely the only weapon which could be wielded at such close range that was not buried into the dirt.  Certainly enough for a stationary target, and a normal soldier at that.

“…a…stard..!”

Unfortunately for him, I doubt any of the artificial soldiers whose cores were left for him to raise were ordinary.  Her, not least.

Caught by surprise, he fires at me.  A translucent projection of Hoplites, resembling her - my original - stood firm against the spraying bullets.  They wouldn’t last forever; but neither would Aulus’ invisible shackles.

[…Initiating Oversoul.  Initialisation Complete.]

The phantom warriors fell and scattered into motes of so much aether, but not before one used her large build to hurl me into the air.  The Vulcan cannon whirred and spun, trying to chase me through the air as friction cost me speed.  Still, I had a plan.

I prayed and willed another phantom to life.  She shoved me forward, and herself back in game; covering me momentarily from the gunfire.  A tactic which, perhaps, would be foolhardy, even fatal if performed inadequately.

I was ready, however.  Ready, and with the luck of some devil from the void.

Her strength threw me up in the air, approaching the warmachina’s apex…

And then I began to fall.

Aulus smirks as I descend; seemingly not far enough to reach him, and without enough time to launch another cross-strike.

Instead, however, I surprise him with another technique of the Grey Jackal’s.

I thrust my blade forward, still wreathed in blue flames.  It was a long shot, as I knew not if his core remained in the lattice of flesh and steel within the cockpit, or had forced its way up through his protruding torso.

Still, the flames extended forth from my blade, in a concentrated Lance of flame and plasma, striking right through his heart, as I fell to the dirt.

Stunned, he gazed upon me.

“How dare you..!  A mere puppet..!”

A cacophony of voices rang out from his speakers.  I couldn’t make out what they said.  

[Critical error-] [Opal Weapon systems breached-] [Core Failure Immi-] [Initiate So-] [Error…]. […elf Destruct Sequence in…]

I had no chance to climb up the smooth armour of the Warmachina to reach him from here, nor did I have a chance to pierce its armour even with that technique.

The gun, unable to reach me this close, whirred to a stop.

I had little time to check if he was truly dead.

I willed more phantoms in my retreat, following the path I painstakingly must have plucked free to where I fell from.

The Phantoms aided my climb, and not a moment too soon.  I barely made it atop more of the rubble before I heard an almost deafening explosion.  Almost.  Perhaps my hearing felt unusually sensitive..?

The Phantoms aiding my climb began to fade as my strength failed me.  Despite everything, despite learning that I was nothing more than a puppet to a puppet, I didn’t want to die.

…and then a pair of hands gripped my own.  One which despite appearances, felt metal.  Mechanical.  Another, far shorter but no less strong, and adorned with black scales, pulled me up.

Two familiar faces smirked at me as I aly on solid dirt above ground at last. One winked at me with his only uncovered eye, nearly shoving me to the ground as he dusted off my shoulder.

"You still alive, Rox? Heh, don't worry, I hear medical leave's good."

I drew breath deeply and slowly, finally realising how tense I had been until that point.  Not simply in battle, not simply today.  While my answers were in some ways grim, I finally had them; and could finally unwind.

If things ended there, if my life could simply continue in that direction, perhaps things would have been better.  Perhaps I wouldn’t need to scrawl this all down so hastily.  If only.

#ffxiv writing #ffxiv oc #writing #don't get too attached

[observeroflaplace]

PART 5 - TO THE DEPTHS

Though the Oronir - and thus, more specifically, Gansetseg and I had made headway against more of these [E!£o’s] Primals, it was the wicked and winged bird woman that became our undoing.  Even the Oronir joined could scarcely land magical blows amidst the raging storm winds which she called, deflecting arrow and bullet, as well as spellcaster and swordsman alike.

Only ice seemed fruitful to slow her down, and that was beyond even the tiny Xaela’s tremendous firey strength.  Time and time again we charged, and time and time again, the flames of her strikes and my own Terminus Est were snuffed like so many flickering candles.

Even our own bodies were hurled around like rag dolls, sometimes taking many ticks to surrender us even to gravity.  Worse still, with every time we gave ground, we grew farther from the tower we sought to seize with the resistance born of the Echo; and closer to the edge of a strange crater.  And it seemed the soulless beast knew as much; pushing back with every advantage she could eke, until I myself was flung to the edge of a fall to who-knows-where.

Gansetseg screams in desperation, reaching for my hand; though her narrow reach eludes her.  I catch onto her tail, as she buries her spear into the ground with what strength she could afford, though the shroud of flames she cloaked herself in to give herself physical might was continually snuffed out.

I felt my own grip weakening.  Garuda’s tempest refused to lessen.  I could feel surfeit scales shed from my tiny Xaela companion’s tail, even as she tried with all her might to curl it closer to herself through the pain.

For a moment I feared that by saving myself, I might tear it clean off.  I reconciled myself with the fact that it may not even save me, but doom us both.

She screams my name[..?] as I surrender my grip, allowing her to hurl herself forward inadvertently.  I don’t know what became of her as I was flung into an abyss of soil, of stone, and rubble.

The depths of this place, forgotten in the desolation of war and the machinations of the Telopheroi seemed to grab at the edges of my senses, clutching, boring into my skull.  I did not black out, nor did I feel nauseated; however I drifted in and out of consciousness; all the while climbing, digging tirelessly.

I hardly noticed when I clamoured to my feet.  I hardly noticed when my nails were cracked and my hands scratched from moving so much stone.  I hardly felt the dust and mud settle and crust on me until I was covered in grime; and a makeshift passage lay before me.

It appeared that some great, hulking Warmachina had buried itself inside a great chamber of ancient Ala Mhigan design; likely lost to time and buried from its crash.  Its hideous and twisted appearance in the darkness made me wonder at first if it was an Eikon spawned by the tower.  The slithering, wet sounds that crawled forth from a cyst which may have once been a cockpit entrance from its back did little to assuage those fears.

I drew my blade slowly, as though frozen in terror.  Indeed, I was gripped by fear, and every instinct told me to turn and run or charge forward and find something, *anything* soft to tear my blade into.

But it was not merely fear which held me in place; but something more profound.  My own voice, monotone, bereft of my feelings and thoughts, rang through my head louder than ever.

[Disengaging combat parameters.  Suspending autonomous motor function.]

Whatever figure crawled out of the ruined Warmachina’s back was much too large to be a man, much too discoloured; and it was clear that despite the shape of a midlander or Garlean’s torso, there was no distinction between clothing and skin.

It rose no further than upright; and the edges of the orifice of the machine appeared to pulse in tandem with oversized and aberrant veins.

Through a once-monocled eye, now divided into three sockets where lenses once were, the sharp and cunning mind of a surgeon, or perhaps scientist, bore into me.  Into my very soul.

I tried to yell out.  To scream for help.  To question just WHAT this abomination even was.

It was no use.  The air left my lungs but I could not shape them into words.

The thing peered down at me.

“It is good to see you return to me, proxy of Sas Aurum.”

#ffxiv writing #ffxiv oc #writing #don't get too attached

[observeroflaplace]

Part 4 - A New Dawn

The battlefield was chaotic.  Frankly, I should have expected it.  At first, I struggled to keep up; both with the proper soldiers I was posing as, and even the less formally-trained mercenaries.  It seemed what second-hand knowledge I had wasn’t suited to my physique and fitness, the latter falling just shy during a lot of assaults.

My ears rang from the spells flung from my side, and the gunfire from the other.  Our enemies weren’t like the fools who struck in the Lavender beds, nor were they like the organised imperial march from my second hand memories.  At best I could liken them to a swarm, or a great, hideous machine; and I quickly learned that our goal was not simply to incapacitate, but to free each errant cog we could.  We captured not to kill, but to heal; though the latter was a slow and costly process beyond my understanding, or perhaps simply beyond my belief.

Ticks stretched to bells and bells seemed to stretch to turns.  Each moment felt like an uphill struggle, clawing for ground against a foe with considerably less remorse than our own.  One incapable of remorse.

Eventually however, I found my stride.  And by the light of the star, or whatever else there is to swear by, I kept it.  We took ground.  We rescued these “Telopheroi” from their ranks.  And eventually, the time came for me to pursue my own goal.

“The Hells are wrong with ya, kid?  Our lot kin’ stay back n’ not get Tempered!”

Jepherson yelled, as I charged forward into a now-thin  crowd of tempered soldiers; exploiting their sluggish movements and toppling them with some well placed Termus Est crosses; the firey explosions providing more pressure to topple than to kill thanks to the enemy’s armour.

I knew the plan was to fend off the fodder until we could cure them.  I knew at best we could challenge one of those false gods, those baleful apparitions.  I knew that the closer to the tower I got, the more those spawns of foolish faith would greet me.  I knew I wouldn’t have backup from Jeph’s squad, without the Echo in their ranks.  I knew I was being stupid and reckless.

But my goal was somewhere nearby.  I could feel it in my bones, pulling at my mind and soul.

Of course, I didn’t get very far on my own.

I fended off small groups of Telopheroi for a time; afterall, I didn’t need to stop them.  I simply needed to slow them down.  That all but ended the moment the form of a warped, dark and purple figure of unnaturally-hued frost reared her fearsome head.  Against her, a “Lunar Primal”, there was no slowing her down.  There was no getting around it.  And as her minions gathered around me, threatening to drown me in bodies, or worse, there was no escape.

My instincts told me to hold my hope that my ceruleum-like flames would hold some meaningful advantage over the monstrous-yet-elegant apparition, given her apparent affinity for ice.  However, the best I could do was to lessen the force of blizzards which she wielded with the same ease as one might a dagger.  Fittingly, her skill with a blade conjured from ice was equally as devastating.  A single swing brought me to my knees, and the other was set to finish me.  I could only look up in desperation, cursing the futility of my sole goal on this battlefield.  

I closed my eyes at the last moment, my stubborn defiance faltering in the face of death.  A feeling I should not have been familiar with, yet through alien eyes, it mirrored the blade of another, and I could not bear to watch the proverbial reaper’s arc.

Shouting and glass shattering fills my ears; chaos broken by the bellowing of a single, commanding man’s voice.

“Waste little time with the rats; the Eorzean tribes may tend to them.  Our priority should be the girl, and to her, take down that laughable attempt at divinity!  Show her that ice is nothing under the brilliance of the Sun!”

I opened my eyes to see the monstrous goddess’ blade shattered, and an expression of irksome irritation and indignant surprise upon her face.  Charging forces - Au Ra in yellow garb, I believe - overwhelmed the Telopheroi surrounding me.  While I had been grossly outmatched by their numbers, it appears these valiant - if terrifying - souls not only outclassed them in numbers, but sheer might as well.  A combatant had leapt from on high, from the back of some great bird, slamming an axe hewn seemingly from stone itself upon the dark idol of ice, breaking her stance despite her towering stature, through sheer weight.  Its owner, an imposing and imperious Au Ra with sunbaked black scales and dark hair whose golden tips were braided into weaves to frame his scowling face, turned to me and lifted me by the scruff of my neck.

“Gansetseg!  This one is yours to deal with.  Perhaps your gift will keep her from falling prey to the foolish embrace of the spire.”

That man, evidently the group’s leader, hurled me towards a small and muscular woman wearing those selfsame yellow robes, albeit with a curious golden sheen, and what might pass as a small armoury strapped to her back.  Despite her tiny stature, Gansetseg catches me, with a smile, and dusts me off.

“Take your breath.  Then we shall fight.”

#ffxiv writing #gansetseg oronir #ffxiv oc #writing #don't get too attached