#Tales of Goldbrand

[captainkurosolaire]

X2 ~ Eulogy of a Deadman

Reference ~ No Future ~ ♪"Moje More"♪ Gathering of black-donned Crew gathered around a small row boat. Coffin and flowers scattered in array alongside a Tricorne placed toppled delicately, with a picture-frame of a departed. Awaiting pyre and send-off into the open seas. First to speak was a Sea Maiden, and Counselor, Slafhota, whose hands clung together to keep from shaking holding a steep-burden. Prayers left to shambles. “He came to me in need. Seeking help, believing he was the biggest-screw up this realm has ever seen. But the-fact is his feet braved, open to my waters. He demonstrated conviction most wouldn’t achieve. Especially a pirate-nonetheless… I failed him. The depths of my words didn’t reach in-time.” Empathy writhed upon her visage, her shoulder gently tapped and escorted.

Changing positions. The Wildwood, Zieton, took the stage. “Didn’t care about the heady-pirate at-first. Loud, often obnoxiously-so, crude and boisterously-confident. But you couldn’t change-or-shake the fact at his core. He was genuine, it was obvious, wanting to remove people from misfortune. He would’ve gone to any-lengths to achieve that. Acquiring the world’s burden to retrieve.” Despite his rather-cool demeanor compared to others. His voice-quaked rivers, “My faith soon became… Was the desire, towards seeing him succeed.” Pushed off from the center, a commotion-irritated Raen, Sol ‘Nan’ Akami forged his way.

A ruckus darted-forth, broken-pitch quivering in a bark. Held back by two-other burly men, “Y-You cheeky feline-rat! Damn you!! I won’t forgive this! For leaving me the only survivor! YOU COWARD! WHO'S GONNA BE RESTORATION TO MY DESTRUCTION? I-I CAN’T RULE THE SEAS WITHOUT YOU!” Despite being once a deadly-foe and former enemy, he was broken-heart, that toughness and his often-jokester personality was removed. This was a brother’s grief. Even if not spoken-soon enough or heard in return often, it couldn’t sway their place from another. Fetching his pistol from holster, wanted to shoot that smug-face of the Seeker. But was deterred-away and seized from it, carried off. Small-lalafell, Me-Me, walked in replacement. “Mr.Hat was cool. I liked playing with him and pulling lots of pranks! Although he seemed angry with me a lot, I never felt like I wasn’t welcome and that’s something which made me really happy.” Talking more simply before rushing off to never show-glimpses of her sorrow. She was often the touted-indomitable demon no one could conceive or fathom.

Giant-burly, Hellsguard stomped the ground, dragging feet. Intense-fire often consumed him, now tears streaming down which doused him internally. “...I was fine living my peace, retreated from all. Never again knowing what glory would taste-like. Gave up on my ambition never knowing what I could achieve that’d make me feel-complete. Believing I could defeat-any adversity too easily. Then a broken-armed pirate showed up, kicking my door open and stepped on my cooked feast! Telling me so effortlessly, “Old-man, we’re going on a journey!” That brat-of-a-kid… Took me from my holed-in-solitude and forced me out to experiences. I-thought extinguished! …As I began sailing with you-lot, I started understanding what it means again, live-to-see. He made a believer-in-me and I will carry his dream for me with remaining eternity. With honor… To become a King among the Living. I see it now, that meaning… It’s the only King without a crown required, or throne and validation needed. You become it by simply being, and all your fellows, are your subordinates worthy to seize, there are truly no-enemies when freed.” Placing a hand-on-his-heart and burning against flesh, making an impactful scar of Captain’s memory. Symbolically carrying, fire of the deceased but more importantly… The Will. Casta who wrote his stories up to now and escapades, charting his Tales as a diary. She stumbled and couldn’t deter from whimpering. Taking moments before, “Long-ago, he saved me as a little-girl. I was enslaved, by a violent-father, at-least for what he bought me as. Yet Captain relinquished me, Brought me into the home-environment of another family altogether. He changed my life-around instantly. Became inspired, and so I wrote. Swore, I’d repay him! A hero-unsung for all to read… I studied-medical and medicinal means to bring relief like he did to a young-broken unguided soul. I helped his kind out, the pirates, crooks, outcasts, the one’s often shunned away because of their appearance. Who are we, to discriminate against what someone’s cover is? Doesn’t seem to be valid. The pages-written behind the cover, typically resides the part that matters. Summers-later. We convened by happenstance, fate-string tugged our way.” She changed-attitude becoming cheerful and happy recounting. “I got to meet him again! To mend to the best of my abilities. But in-the-end I couldn’t relieve him of great-injuries. Hurt to see him linger, pain stricken. …More than you could know. After-what-happened, I didn’t see myself anymore being useful, I sank below. Yet, always greets people with a infectious-smile. Telling me, “Casta, it’s because ye b’ th’ most human, is what reminds all ov’ us monsters or otherwise, what to still-be.” And suddenly I-felt again uplifted and at peace. E-Everytime! Everytime, I almost wanted to give-up on myself or this life. He took my wrists gently, the handsome rogue jumped in after me either in shallow-infested or shark-filled waters! EVERYTIME. Until, I couldn’t do anything left, but finally, see what he saw. My own-irreplaceable-worth. There’s no one-like that level of heroic-deed— only fantasy. Wouldn’t ever think he was capable-of-that, he was always going to surprise you.” Again her emotions-changed like thunder, now fury took over. First-time she spoke-loudly, and up for her-self or another, she used to be the most silent-timid. Now she had become a lioness for preserved memory.

“It’s unfair Thal’s balls! Why are the one’s born in Twelve’s favor or God’s boon, get every recognition, praise, but first-ones to retreat from history?! Why are they the ones remembered for legendary acts but one’s who’ve been here every-day Sun to Moon with every single-breath they are making our life-flourish forth, civilizations ushering, by giving new generations education, hand-outs in their most timely-need, not given the same?” Her fist-sledgehammered down on the podium. “You were the best of them. My sailor hero!” She left with anguished remorse gritting teeth. The arranging-voices heard so far and the imprint placed. The departed-soul managed to imprint on them that made their nature’s be thwarted. Unlikely a Noble, Lord Shiro Elune, of pristine-white but with a black-flower on his suit, drew up with elegance bearing all-the-markings of regality. “We were sworn-beings always at odds. I massacred his Crew when we first-met, afterall. He couldn’t overcome our gaps and the league of power I had over him. He was flawed.  From ideologies, stances, ethics. The scoundrel was determined more than any I ever met. He opposed anything with boldness, a charismatic charm that made you want to cheer for him. A showman. Spotlight that he shared with, overtime... You would-recognize; against any dismay. Among history, perhaps, the greatest failure. But because of that, is why many could-identify themselves with him, whether they wished, or knew not…” He showed-a-former, scoff of superiority, “P-fft wasn’t anyway, I could be factored in with the everyday and mundane… You all reeked with insecurities, you’re all leeches, parasites, complain and whimper about what you were born-with or not, making excuses as handicaps. Yet when I visited you in the Brumes, or your piss-covered environments, your legs-unmoved, all-you-walk, as if-you're-not losers! Hand-outs are what most of you commoners want fed. You dream-too-big, too vastly that it taints and pollutes all you come in-contact with. You demand-validation from your peers; despite knowing it’s an echo-chamber and your sentimental words and beliefs, ushering so foolishly, brazenly, you’re certain of yourselves among that group of fellow-collected sheep's! Listen, you'll never-amount to anything or anyone truthfully! Imbeciles, you cannot-deter history! You cannot change Hierarchy or Order! No matter how free you are. You aren’t saints, protagonists of stories, or Warriors of Light nor of Night, exceptionally never will-be anything but fodder for the ones who rule iron-supreme.” At this point-everyone attending booed demanding him-off stage and was irritated at this pompous Keeper who distinguished himself-above so highly.

“...However.” A twist was coming as the mob-was-overwhelmingly on the verge of rioting at a most unholy-timing. Clear and loud with authority. “I will admit my former notion was this; once a time. Yet this heathen behind, single-handedly changed all-these thoughts of certainties and brought questions back to them!” The crowd stopped, dumbfounded. Hanging on every-word this Noble Lord demonstrated. “Yes. Indeed I’d consider him no-longer an enemy. Although, I won our encounters often. He had defeated me too without being seen. Changing-my-perception. I acted impulsively, dishonored duels, acted on arrogant-egotistical-means I harbored and sheltered as deceitful pride. I thought, everything I did was-justifiably, fact. Groomed to be-placed above an echelon, higher-than-all who sees. But I fell from grace, my fiance and child even forsake my name upon their lips. When I failed these-ways, I had no idea how to handle it… That accursed-man with a golden crest, oh, he knew… He always knew, fought against my sake or for it, inconceivably! Now I stand upon this wake. I say! Honor him greatly and openly. You’ve proven, Noble, friend.” The regal-man did the unthinkable act. Others wouldn’t believe it. Taking a kneel before the burial-site. Lowering his head-to-ground level. Relinquishing his former-rapier that shared connection between the-two souls and beneath the Tricorne hat-of-the-former wielder. 

Thought and believed, Forever Destined. Tears-bellowed out from the crowd, moved once again. Diamond-encrusted tear crystals fell from the eyelids of the Keeper.

Further attenders close to the departed gave their speeches. Until the last Crewmate was brought up, Judas Caesar the First Crewmate who had deep-personal history off-and-on, back and forth chemistry. Tear-stained-eyes, looking once again like a battered-prince, who lost his entire-Kingdom. "...I" He couldn't get any words to wind. Despite owning that affinity. You could-practically hear a heart-pitch whining from his throat. "I-loved him. Wish I got a chance to say it, more things, left to the endless space. ...There was-no one else, I felt that strongly about, a soul-mate of the seas, could really only say. Promised me we'd get to my destination of my former-origins so-early on, made my dream's inked on his own sleeve, he was a different-type of cat, no pun-intended. See... When we got on the right-pace, all-things-aligned, I never felt like I wasn't at home." He empathized every-memory so fondly and vividly. "I did a lot of damage to him, we've our past, never out of disdain, hatred-made. His commitments and expectations placed on himself were deeper than ravines, those scars-any saw him with. Was type of guy, who never met any diversity or challenge too big for him. Even marooned, castaway, left on land, forced to survive and thrive. He always recovered the meaning to breathe, and taught others how too as well. As you've seen today... All that's, possibly, left now." "Rest ever Free." "Captain Of These Seas." An-arrow was emitted from springing bow-string for the last-blaze, as the ship was left to go burning, on and on, in lovely-blues, to hopefully find peace, the discovery he desired to always seek.

#Bark #FFxivWrite2023 #ffxivwrite2023 #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Slafhota #Sol Akami #Gark #Lord Shiro Elune #Casta #Zieton Luiard XII #Me-Me Worthy #Judas Caesar #Tales of Goldbrand #Creative Writing #I should've known #Never meant to be. #FFXIVWrite

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

"I've not seen one of your kind since I was still a boy- a gentry this far in the world of men is quite a surprise. I do hope I have not disturbed you, my friend."

"Oh? You have seen others of my ilk before, if long ago? I would be glad to hear the tales- after you have resolved the issue with Sir Goldbrand. Whether you win or lose, I look forward to working with you as a friend and ally in kind... but rest assured I may have put money down on your swift victory-"

The Fae was unique, perhaps, but so too could he tell the orcish noble before him was in turn. A cunning, clever mind paired with impressive skill and strength was rare enough, but with a philosophically minded, regal demeanor to boot? Truly he was a rarity in his own right, and one Hriob saw no reason not to befriend regardless of politics.

#ic #thegreeksknewthescore #suntdracull #the orcish tactician #the emperor - fae court of the wanderer

[uesp]

Martin Septim’s Reactions to the Various Daedric Artifacts You Can Give Him

Azura’s Star

"Ah, Azura's Star .. as beautiful as all the tales tell."

Goldbrand

"This blade has slain many a hero over the years. Tamriel will be better off without it for a while."

Masque of Clavicus Vile 

"Ah, the Masque of Clavicus Vile. You are wise not to let yourself get further enmeshed in his plots."

Savior's Hide

"There is no disguising the bestial nature of some of the daedric Princes."

Volendrung 

"Who now knows the tale of how this Dwemer hammer came to embody the power of one of their most bitter foes?"

Ring of Khajiiti 

"Thieves everywhere will curse us both for the loss of this ring, my friend. So be it."

Mace of Molag Bal 

"A fearsome weapon, and steeped in the ancient evil of its master. May its deadly power turn good, for once."

Ring of Namira 

"I'll sleep better once this keepsake of Namira is gone from my possession. A good choice for our purpose, though."

Skeleton Key

"The merchants of Cyrodiil would sleep more soundly, knowing this Key is gone from the world. But why tell them?"

Spellbreaker 

"Not many people would give up Spellbreaker for destruction, my friend. Your sacrifice honors me."

Sanguine Rose 

"I never thought to see this again. I once possessed it, briefly ... a lifetime ago, it seems now ... To obtain it, and then give it up ... I honor your dedication to our cause."

Wabbajack 

"Good riddance to this tool of mischief."

Skull of Corruption 

"The world will be better off with this foul thing gone from it."

Oghma Infinium 

"Not many could resist the temptation of the Oghma Infinium. Now it is my turn to be put to the test!"

Ebony Blade 

"I wonder if Mephala herself knows how many lives this foul blade has taken over the years? I will be glad to give the world a respite from it."

#UESP #Lore #Martin Septim #Oblivion #Daedric Artifact #Azura's Star #Goldbrand #Masque of Clavicus Vile #Savior's Hide #Voledrung #Ring of Khajiiti #Mace of Molag Bal #Ring of Namira #Skeleton Key #Spellbreaker #Sanguine Rose #Wabbajack #Skull of Corruption #Oghma Infinium #Ebony Blade

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

A brief recounting of the events of Elder Scrolls Legends, and of the Forgotten Heroes that saved the Empire when no one else could.

The Argonian, The Myth, The Legend...

SWIMS-AT-NIGHT!

SMUGGLER, WAR HERO... AND THE MOST LOYAL OF FRIENDS.

Self-Proclaimed "Greatest Smuggler in Tamriel," Swims-At-Night was just a simple smuggler during the Great War, stealing his cargoes from the Thalmor controlled Cyrodill, traversing the treacherous seas to later sell it off to either the resistance in Hammerfell or the Thalmor themselves, to them at 5 times the original value and at half the quality, not really out of any patriotic duty as much as for the cold and shiny siren call of gold. A daring, dangerous life, that made him make contacts with all sorts of people, that however ill fitted his true calling.

For you see, for while he was indeed without equal in his smuggling and his ability with poisoned blades was without match... Swims-At-Night was a lore nerd at heart. Especially if he could turn a tidy profit from said lore nerding.

But let's keep things in order.

Everything in Swims-At-Night's life changed one fateful night, during that same Great War he was profiting from... When he met two figures.

One, was Tyr.

This Beefcake of a Nord was one of the few remaining blades, captured by the second in command of the Thalmor Warlord and Daedric Follower Lord Narafiin, and left to Rot and fight for his life in one of his dungeons/daedric lair/underground arenas, only to one day escape with the help of another... mysterious figure.

THE FORGOTTEN HERO! WAR CRIMINAL! BACKSTABBER! MASTER OF DISGUISE! GENERALLY GREEDY ASSHOLE! THE WORST OF FRIENDS! DID I MENTION BACKSTABBER, LIKE, SERIOUSLY, THIS FUCKER BACKSTABS A LOT.

Basically TESL Robbie Rotten. At least he hates Nazi elves tho.

Anyway, back to that one faithful night. Tyr and the Forgotten Hero, from here on TFH, had recently escaped their captivity, and were searching for a lift to reach Skyrim, so to warn the emperor, who had retreated there after the fall of the imperial city, of Narafiin’s Daedric Dealings, and also so they could scoop up a friend of Tyr along the way, so that she could shine a Light upon this mess.

So, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a Port patrolled by Thalmor Justiciars searching for both them and the Argonian’s stolen Cargo, Tyr and TFH decide to steal Swims-At-Night’s boat...

RIGHT. FROM. UNDER. HIS. GILLS.

Needless to say, it was friendship at first sight.

After discovering the 2 vagrants trying to steal his shit and a quick sword fight with the Forgotten Hero, the Trio is found by one of the aforementioned Thalmor Patrols, and therefore, seeing how they too were being hunted down by the Nazi Elves, he goes “what the hell, the enemy of my nazi enemy is my new best friend, let’s go guys, this trip is on me!”, scoops them up on his ship, and departs from the port toward northern shores.

They later shipwreck. Because dude might be the “Greatest Smuggler in Tamriel,” but I challenge you to steer a ship during one perfect storm with one bloodthirsty Breton pirate ship trying their best to board them and sink his ship at the same time. Not even (spoilers) Sails-Trough-Storms herself could do it, I say.

Anyway, they shipwreck, have some zany adventures in High Rock with some mudcrabs and some spriggans, find a wolf cub TFH might or might have not abandoned to his fate rather than take in and nurture as his new pet LIKE THE ASSHOLE HE IS, and finally, in the middle of a ancient ruin, surrounded by angry goblins who had just come in and killed the cultists that were trying to kill her...

She appears, in all her majestic might...

LAANETH! MISTRESS OF MAGIC! SCHOLAR AND RESEARCHER AMONG THE MOST PRESTIGIOUS COLLEGES AND MAGES GUILDS IN ALL OF TAMRIEL, AND EXPERT IN DAEDRIC ARTIFACTS AND LORE!

Anyway, they save Laaneth from a Goblin assault straight out of Goblin Slayer, and she informs them that her latest research was around a semi obscure prophecy called The Culling (II), a cautionary tale about how people shouldn’t standardize and destroy their Battle Royal Games for greed and get rich schemes, and about how, during a particular cosmological event, the veil between worlds will be weakened, and will be easily breached by anyone committing a sacrifice big enough (Like, for example, the entirety of the Imperial City Population) to reawaken the now forgotten Oblivion Gates, so that the maws of Oblivion will be able to be opened one last time, to unleash hell upon Nirn, so to hasten the deterioration of reality and the breaking of the world, thus destroying creation and possibly but most definitely not allowing the Thalmor to ascend to godhood in the ensuing chaos.

You know, standard Nazi Elves plans.

This is even more concerning of Lord Naarafiin simply having Dremoras and other Daedras in his armies, especially after it is revealed that some major entity, perhaps even a Prince, must be edging their bets on this thing happening, so they decide to quickly reach the Emperor’s Camp all together to give him the grave news, and see what to do next.

(If i may take a moment, I would like to point out how Swims-At-Night, his ship destroyed and his cargo now in the seas, without a single prospect of coin in sight, is still there, ready to fight and die for his newfound companions and freedom, because he might be a scoundrel and a Smuggler, but he is a Honest Smuggler goddammit, mass genocide and daedric outbreaks are a big no no for him.

He also probably already knitted some new best friends sweaters already for him and his bros and is already probably preparing one for his new nerd elven friend, and probably didn’t want them to go to waste, so there’s that).

Anyway, our heroes got to Skyrim. Some more shenanigans ensue, a bar fight, some imperial deserters, a High Elf Merchant that was trapped by giant spider and had NOTHING TO DO WITH THE THALMOR TFH might have just been plain old racist too and left for dead rather than help, the ghost of another merchant asking for revenge against some other, human bandits that killed him and his family for their gold, and all that...

Anyway, they reach the Emperor’s Camp, where we meet the last members of this ragtag bunch of misfits...

GENERAL CASSIA! SECOND IN COMMAND DURING THE GREAT WAR UNDER EMPEROR TITUS MEDE II, AND MOSTLY THE ONE WHO HAD TO DO THE DIRTY WORK FOR HIM IN THE FORM OF DISCIPLINING DESERTERS AND ALL THAT NASTY SHIT.

Anyway, a plan is formed. Our Heroes must return to the Imperial City, disguised as Gladiators, and will use a secret passage near the Arena, the SAME passage the Hero of Kvatch used all those many years before to escape the imperial prison, courtesy of Swims-At-Night, the History Nerd him, to reach into White Gold Tower, and steal the greatest treasure of all.

THE ORB OF VAERMINA!

For you see, Lord Naarafiin indeed had the help of Daedric Princes, ready to spring up at the occasion of the walls of reality getting thinner, and Vaermina was among them. The Warlord was using the Orb to spy on the Imperial Troops movements and plans, easily outwitting them and laying waste along the country, committing one atrocity after the next, reading the field play for the final sacrifice, and our heroes needed to get the sphere away from him, so to better prepare a effective attack plan against the city before it was too late.

So, our heroes reach the Imperial Capital, passing as gladiators, and go into the secret passage, now swarming with perilous undead after many years from the 3rd era...

And with a mysterious altar, appeared out of nowhere, whose burning light, as bright as dawn breaking upon the fields, shone against the undead hordes, aiding our heroes in their time of need as it scorched them to a crisp.

For it seemed, not all Princes were in favor of Naraafiin’s plan of destroying the world.

Or maybe Meridia just wanted to scorch some Mummies, who knows with her.

Anyway, our heroes reach the highest floor of the Tower, where the Orb is left unprotected...

And where they are promptly ambushed by Naarafiin second in comand!

REIVE! THE BLADE MASTER! THE PAIN-SINGER! THE LORD OF THE ARENA!

He was him who had captured Tyr and TFH back at the start, and with a swift move, he has now taken Tyr Hostage, the gleaming point of his blade ready to slash the man’s manly and muscled chest at a wrong move.

BUT THAT’S NO ORDINARY BLADE I SAY!

(Yeah, only found this image for the card art, sorry)

THAT’S GOLDBRAND! THE SWORD OF BOETHIA, DAEDRIC PRINCE OF PLOTS! FATHER OF MYSTERIES! MOTHER OF SHADOWS! AND A BUNCH OF OTHER VARIOUS TITLES WITH OTHER VARIOUS GENDERS! AND THE REAL DAEDRIC PRINCE BEHIND THIS MESS!

For what better plot, than to plot to destroy the world, after all?

TFH has however been also fast, and has already nicked the Orb for himself, the kleptomaniac little shit. He is now presented with a choice. Keep the Orb, and watch his friend and companion die... or Give Reive the Orb, and get his friend back... “unscathed.”

And TFH, the absolute bastard and backstabber... chooses to keep the Orb.

(I mean, yes, technically, you can decide to spare Tyr... Except dude still dies during the ensuring fight as he shows his massive balls of nordic steel and SMASHES A DAEDRIC ARTIFACT TO PIECES RIGHT IN FRONT OF A ANGRY HIGHER DREMORA, and it is canon that TFH used the orb at least 10 times in his life if we go by Achievements, which he couldn't really do if he let Tyr smash it, soooo...)

Anyway, Tyr dies, Reive is Angry (And so are Laaneth and partially Cassia, like, dude was Laaneth’s friend more than he was anyone else, they had HISTORY, she is understandably angry with TFH, and he was working in close quarters with Cassia due to their ranks in the imperial army and shit...), and a battle ensues. TFH manages to overpower Reive and kill him, thus gaining the favor of Goldbrand and perhaps Boethia’s Themselves given their great betrayal and show of strength, since that’s how Boethia Rolls...

Anyway, They daringly escape the Imperial City, everyone a bit more somber after the whole ordeal, even despite the victory, and reach the Emperor’s camp nearby, reading for the next day siege, right in time for the Culling... BUT OH NOES! A Thalmor assassination deep cover team (which is composed entirely by Bosmer for some reasons... what, are Kahjiits not stealthy enough for your deep cover assassinations?) has attacked the Emperor in the night!

The assassins have been repelled, and Titus Mede II is safe, but the Emperor is now no longer fit to ride the next day. This will surely be a deep blow to the morale of the army, even now that has been bolstered by new and fresh recruits from Skyrim, and Cassia isn’t sure anymore they are going to pull it through...

And it’s here, that our “hero” truly unleashes his inner Robbie Rotten, as a dastardly plan is formed, I’m 99% sure after Swims-At-Night’s Counsel.

The emperor will remain in his tent, in the middle of the camp, unseen and unheard as he rests, as TFH wears his armor, and rides into battle on the front lines with his army, disguised as the emperor, keeping the Morale High as he valiantly fights of the Nazi Elven Scum, his Golden Blade in one hand, his mystical sphere of dreams in the other, as he conquers more and more ground, his friends leading 3 other different fronts in a 4 way attack on the imperial city, crashing trough to stop the massacre from happening...

And yet.

It’s too late.

Naaraafiin has already killed the entire population of the Imperial City, and the Gates of Oblivion are opened. He meets what he thinks is the emperor, his personal guard at his side, as all manners of Atronachs and Dremora are unleashed upon the city, and soon the world, as the Oblivion Gates open once more and the walls of reality are weakened.

TFH has to think fast, and so, attacks the Warlord, who easily counters TFH with his magic, now overpowered by the think layers between realms and his own, general overpowered Final Boss Magic, blasting shit left and right at a frankly insanely low magicka cost...

And yet, perhaps, this overpowered magic will be Naaraafiin’s Downfall, for the Orb of Vaermina cannot just enter the dreams of your enemies to spy on their plans, but can steal mirages of powers and creatures from your opponent mind, and use them against them.

And so, witnessing his prowess with the sword, and finally recognizing Goldbrand as Goldbrand, and the “Emperor” as the one who had killed Reive, as he steals one of his massive blast right from under Naarafiin’s mind, and uses it against its own master...

Naaraafiin falls. Pushed by his own arcane magick, perhaps still alive, perhaps not, inside one of the holes in reality his culling had created, the link between him and the fracture of reality severing, as the Dremoras and Daedras vanish into Oblivion, and the gates close.

The battle is won. The Imperial City is taken back, if destroyed and with little to no population left.

And the Thalmor are retreating.

TFH and his friend go back to the emperor, who congratulates with them about the victory, for the man really knows when the delegate, and gifts TFH his armor, as the 4 companions depart, each for their own road, perhaps to never meet again...

And so the story ends, with a empire saved from the brink of destruction, yet irreparably damaged, a friendship betrayed, and terrible memories people will never forget.

But when the story ends...

Another begins.

For to paraphrase Marvel:

SWIMS-AT-NIGHT WILL RETURN...

In Elder Scrolls Legends III: Return to Clockwork City!

(Tho there’s the Fall of the Dark Brotherhood first, probably going to do that first, gotta show you just how much of a Asshole TFH can be).

#tes #tesl #the elder scrolls #the elder scrolls legends #tes lore #long post #wanted to do this in a while #swims-at-night #the forgotten hero #(don't really know how else to tag it really) #elder scrolls legends #elder scrolls

[aylamoenwyb]

Prompt#15: Plateau

How to write this letter.  There was no way she could face the Goldbrand Captain.  No.  It was her actions that led....Shaking her head no, trying to erase it.  She couldn’t.  If I had just not cared about silly fairy tales and romance.  Gotten on the damn boat, he’d be here...

Still, everyone was in danger now.  The ship’s engine room in ruins.  And Sol was gone.  Maybe even dead.  At the very least, the voidsent had claimed him for now and everyone needed to know.  After pacing her workshop over and over picking scales from her tail, she’d plop down on her work-stool, tapping her pen nervously against her journal before finally penning:  

Dear Captain Kuro Solaire of the Goldbrand,

Something terrible has happened.  I am at fault.   Sol was overtaken by Kahzoo.  His rune you helped with was purposefully broken by him.  I pushed him too far.  He was running from me.  He destroyed the engine room to his ship and on top of everything else it made me snap.  All that work, passion and care and he just destroyed it out of spite. 

He left everything to retake the ship’s helm for you in the Captain’s cabin.  Although I must tell you, without Kahzoo or the engine room rebuilt, I am not sure how you will get her back up and running.  I’m not even sure if my heart can handle currently setting foot in there to rebuild it for you.  Nor that you’d want me to.  Or to even be around.  I can hand over every note and blueprint and caculation I have on her heart.  

I am so terribly sorry my actions led towards your childhood friend snapping and deciding that letting a voidsent consume him was a better fate than loving me.  I will remain in my office for the next seven suns to give you and your crew time to sort this all out, but after that I might need to retreat from the world for a while.  Sol brought me out of my shell but without him around, and with everything that’s happened, I don’t trust people right now and need to retreat.  

If you see Sol it’s not him.  Be wary.  You’ll know I’m telling the truth because the brand is gone.  Again I am so sorry.  I wish I could make it right.  If there’s a punishment, I’ll bare whatever it is pirates do.  

I have his gun Silva.  I don’t know what to do with it.  

Sincerely, Elisa

PS: If Ayla would like the gil back I understand.  I don’t deserve it.  It’s still here in my shop, just send your people to collect it.  

Her letter written, she would place it in one of her delivery bots and send it out the window of her sea side apartment.  Its sensors seeking out the linkpearl signal of the Goldbrand Captain as her wrist-pad tracked it’s movement.  Assuring her at least when it was delivered.  

#ffxivwrite2018

[captainkurosolaire]

Volume 3 - Chasing Kismet

[Sin’s & Tragedies]

Promo Omen: Fogged Dream of a Boy Promo Omen: Captain’s Siren Promo Omen: The ‘Crown’ Tricorne Promo Omen: Sea-Lover Promo Omen: The Pledge Promo Omen: Spiritual Guide: Perish Promo Omen: Face-Paint Promo Omen: Survival & Fury Prelude: Skull Brethren Prelude: Original Crew Prelude: Founding Captain Prelude: The Sol Problem Chapter 1: Who Dunn It? Chapter 2: Fallout Chapter 3: Tailspin Chapter 4: Rumblin’ N’ Tumblin’ Chapter 5: Absence Ushers, Fate Declares! Chapter 6: Lie Mouse, Wrath is Born. Chapter 7: Farewell, Friends. Chapter 8: Traitor Chapter 9: Gold x Silver Chapter 10: Hat Chapter 11: Perish. Chapter 12: Dreamer of Dreams Chapter Finale: Sunbreak Treachery (Commentary below cut.)

(Achieved a great chunk more than I expected early this year to start with. But after a breather for little while, I’ll resume. Aim for that 60 Chapters or beyond @_@. Really put a dent into some of these stories. Have ton’s to write. Lots of characters to just flush out but least throughout this I got a lot set up, and many progressed. Ideally work on screen-sets and going casual mode for my standards though. Also between what may be confusing between Saga/Compendiums/Volumes: Compendium’s strictly will be like a glossary index, with the level’s of interesting stories to read. That’ll always probably be the recommended way to read if interested. Sagas/Volume may approach a more specific type though finding stories, based on Genre. While making the screen-sets I did throughout wildly that seemed like nothing, were pieces of stories that eventually got turn into an arc like this one. >Eventually, I’ll master-list writing into like two-links. Continue polishing my pinned post.< [Gratitude & Love] I legit like have a hundreds to thousand stories remaining. Strangely through feels like hardly anything when I visualize it mentally, feel like this is too short of a story. But reality and with how much energy it really does take and much detail often applying and honing screenshots trying to double-dip, dedication to what I want to go it’s so much, but my resolve and pure grit for passion is wickedly mad. 😎 But I must always shout thanks for all the support, whether invisible lurkers or visible cheers, from new and longtime hearties, who’ve been on this voyage with me. Treasure you from the deepest bottom that beats within. It’s plausible everything feels trivial only cause I have heard and gained lot of inspiration and in-turn your energy with ye all aboard or just merely in my surroundings, your sights are sublime.

#Creative Writing #masterpost #Tales of Goldbrand #Sol #Sol Akami #Saltsong #Archiving #Heave-Ho #Dreams Never Die

[captainkurosolaire]

X5 ~ Prelude to Destiny

[Prev:C] Sunbreak Treachery ~ Scarlet Destiny ~ ♪"Good Guy"♪

Surging water rushed down stream and woodland insects began hissing. A process of wild nature was coiling, a serpent slithering up an evergreen, where chirping birds held host, were being nurtured by their dearest mother of plucked worms being divided kindly, a few newborn eggs left to hatch. A predator serpent salivates a most-scrumptious treat, practically anticipating its course-meal, down those impressive elastic-like mandibles. Camouflaging alongside bark on the unexpected-prey. Its winding patterned-tail curling in support with a sturdy bough. Preparing itself to lunge when their grown-guardian drew close among the edge of the abode nest. One-strike all it’d take. Drooling venom-leaked against its fangs.

The Primeval Law; weak was fed to strong. All abide even if they’ve yet to encounter their devourer. Lonely and with a trouble-soul on a nearby bench gave a daring-stare to this process. Words reciting back in harmful-memory from his own pit-betrayal consistent snakes on his Crew or swimming in believed friendly-waters, hiding deceitfully. Recently departing a treacherous brother consumed by envy, he left them to their own-fate to a volunteering infirmary after their emotional-battle. Far as their long-history was concerned, this was the conclusion.

Again. Left with no-one, nothing. Giving a castaway didn’t mean his Crew would care or remember him after the Summer-break that was agreed-upon. Everything built-up to be demolished again, perhaps in the end, that’s all his purpose served. Fleeting reprieve or an experience to parade; merely a tale. Constant-cycle, that no-matter how many times, attempted to evolve past being simply defined, he always fell-short where it mattered. Teeth-grit angrily with rebelliousness, this was his shade. Always resisting what’s supposed to be assumed, standard, natural. Traitor’s venom from Sol, sept into his veins, and momentarily obscured reflection, <”You’ll become no-better than me, blight akin to myself. All that preaching of goodness, light you bring… Those accursed eyes… Constantly shining against darkness will collapse, you’ll be confronted with the forces we ran to maintain freedom. That we both know, are impossible to overcome. Irrefutable tides, power-beyond-power, none can oppose and it’ll come for your sanctuary. When it DOES, you’ll become at the forefront butchering to survive; thrive, or die empty as nothing.” Winning against their grueling contest, but it didn’t feel like that at-all. He lost a practical considered-brother, a friend, someone trusted. So many wounds overtook and festered. Couldn’t help but wonder if there was painstaking truth in this omen. Not-the-first time something demonic, prophecies his foretelling of the future. That stalking-serpent about to gobble up, let out a hiss before lunging at the motherling, feline-ears quivered, before a bellowing shout, raged forth his own tatted-scarred arm maneuvered like serpent itself grappling the snake in tracks. Poisoned-dipped-fangs close to the motherly bird who collapsed in frightening fear. Wanting to strike at the interrupting-handler, but expertly strangled in prevention. He was its predator, the traumatizing snakes surrounding his story-past made feline instincts-flare. Vengeful frustration wanting to keep squeezing, serpent with a vicious-grip back that often choked-prey’s life out of them. Taking his own wrathful-distraught on something, anything to remove-feeling. Facially-feature’s intimidatingly surfaced, before roaring and snarling stood against the snake, making its resisting force act cowardly; skin shedding early in fear, wanting to slip away to escape desperately; preservation crying. Knowing the serpent was now in-peril. Clutched callous-grip stayed viciously snug until suddenly, the conflicted-soul, dropping below on his knees freeing the creature with mercy, as it slithered recoiling into hedges onward, it’d find meal elsewhere.  Balled-fist kept pounding against the soils beneath, until this boiling-fury was vanquished and knuckles busted open. Resisting urges to become another vile-design; proving them right. Thought crept-in. Opposing so many oppressive forces, notions, order, acted on his own principles, but never saw any succession. No reward in this road of kindness. Nay treasures, glory was had, the people of the land-he-idolized their simplistic and normal settings, mocked for being too mundane. To him it seemed so routine but above-all, they owned peace, knowing no enemies, they lived-unadventurous life but held an inspiring wealth that was long-lasting that didn’t slip from their fingertips, nor materialistic or fool’s gold. His chaotic world navigated upon, continuously rejecting him seemingly from being any symbol-good. As-if wasn’t meant-to-be, swore himself to such-a-daring task with a-sea itself. The pledge prohibited him from ever tasting any true solitude. Condemning his own slavery in mind, body, spirit and soul so foolishly in brazened-youth. Whether desired or not; he must become a conqueror. 

Would figuring out who his Mother was grant clarity a sense – closer to mastery? His-feet shuffled back to standing composure resettled. Taking a breathing; believing unlikely with an exhaled-sigh. Yet his prismatic, fluttering inner-guide hadn’t steered him wrong. He’d boldly walk to this next-seek. Unknowingly that the perceived ‘inadequate’ heart-thrumming inside him, would be contested against warring deathly drums written; in scarlet-destiny. Whole barbarous Isle with a purely-dominating Nation of blood-thirsty predators, eating upon the world’s core effortlessly once again reawakened, stirring up on his beloved-seas, their appetite gluttonously, insatiable, devours in power, ruthless savages.

Collision tides were inevitably forecast to meet; in forces of two, Gorey seas of crimson-bloody murky polluted waters versus unfiltered gilded-gold with an illuminating sun-ray, overhead reflecting the tiniest semblance of hope, that encouraged invitation to waters.

#Barbarous #Present Timeline #ffxivwrite2023 #Tales of the Goldbrand #-Captain Kuro Solaire #This is going to lead into a huge story #So prepare for 300+ chapters #With many many layers and chains #Hopefully I can get the -start- done by end of year #FFXIVWrite #Sol Akami #Creative Writing #ffxiv writing #I might use the XIV prompts to motivate me even if the challenge isn't valid and gone. #Rather release this stuff in quality-in-mind #Cause this arc I've been working on for 4 years of buildin #Also might start making gif-borders #Just for flavor #I've been caught lackin' still but love this #I want to buy energy so badly :( #Need some stress-removing patches too #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

[captainkurosolaire]

X4 ~ Therapy

Reference ~ Mending Past ~ ♪"Transgender"♪

Fidgeting callous digits drew together, coral incense diffuser carried a eucalyptus scent to tranquil nerves being judder, open nasal-ways passages to breathe palpably again. The bold standing in the seat never felt this got anymore untroubled. Plunged-seeking for help from a dearest hearty found himself comfortable to confine in. Instinctively airing out, grievances, pain bottled within, wasn’t natural. It was attempting to relearn or change nature altogether. Kinsmen would call this act by being here, a sign of definitive weakness. They’d shun him even further, mocking his stake as a man, calling his pride pitiful… Artificially determined by underachievers of our society. However to expose your vulnerabilities, requires unprecedented power. Grit against that lingering, nagging feeling when your entire existence wants to crawl away. Is contesting against what’s supposed to be ‘nature.’ Upon this lounge seat, he was never-braver. A pirate-chasing after the grandest treasure, all forget-to-often, Tormented inner seas to navigate and master; Self-discovery! If someone were to acquire all the wealth in that… One must have to wonder, where’d they stand? Perhaps higher… Of a place not-yet charted to the fullest.

Sweat drenched palms, his throat gulped and dried before, “Ugh, this feels like I’m on a casting-couch n’ th’ local Red-Light District, tryna’ get some virgin hole’s stretched this Sennight.” Doing what often did to everyone who came in-contact, crudely buried and joked it away. Mocking his own feelings-until it was numb, displacing their noise. Throwing a popcorn-shrimp into his mouth with snacks on display, Council was also his Chef aboard too. Across from patient, a kind-hearted, Sea Roe and motherly-like maiden, giving a small-giggle at his remark, “It’s okay. We can wait for you to lax, this isn’t something we need to force open. There’s no-fires, here Cap’n. You’re safe, waves outdoors from us, under that sail-breeze accompanied.” She stumbled-across him when concerned, after nearly-dying from experimenting on narcotics and mixing strong-rum together one-night. Without her keen-observance the Sea Maiden didn’t notice his eyes incoherently devoid of sense, that faithful-Sun. She would’ve been too-late. Suffering more scars-than physically the canvas conveyed on him. Early on taking a mantle. Faltering when it came to multiple Crews. Incurring, mutinies, several enemies, known. Or lurking within depths of the unknown. Bounties that became steep from his escapades of fearlessness. Always targets at his back the moment he donned the inherited Tricorn Hat. From fallen Cap’n who founded this Goldbrand. Inside that-wee-bit part of us that holds us back ushering, whispering like a conniving parasite. Crept-in, saying to flee, run-away. Holding us back from growth-ushering and flourishing. It often won. Looking for any way to get-off-the-hook, from achieving anything, may lead to either happiness or deemed-fortune. Important to often resist that insignificant-part. To combat this requires a shout of frustration, and committing to your declared steps to truly heal. “What would ye’ like t’ ask?” Nerves turned to stone, a deep-inhale taken and exhalation followed. Amusement, candle-lit her visage, before an earnest-smile followed, “We’ll start discussing, what brings you thrill, fulfillment? You’ve a coffer of stories, Captain. They’re written not just upon but through you. Acquiring a healthy outlet to release them may help you astutely, or give room to castaway and relinquish unnecessary weight.” She had an ease sharing empathic attributes. Every emotion someone underwent was her own. Devilishly uprooted, a no-good expression of debauchery collected his features, “Ye sure about that? I could go-listing many pleasurable affairs with vivid details. Can’t say none of those experiences weren't a thrill. Worth th’ voyage my partners I’d bet could vouch fellow sentiments.” Looking to stir-up or shake, but she didn’t waver. Expecting to have her roll-her-eyes, give up on him before starting, hopelessly. As many before-her claimed to be ears. Was obvious she would’ve listened to anything. Nothing could deter her aid, cradled around him knowing just his actual hurt. This what a true-friend exhibited; a Crew? Uncanny, selfishness often was prime here, a believed-necessity. Expect everyone with a knife-of-betrayal equipped Loyalty, if held, resided the strongest-currency. Not glinted gold nor silver.

Bested by her with a pout, seriousness followed his features loosened actually thinking of what her words asked. “I guess seeing dreams realized ov’ others. Particularly my mateys anymore is enough satisfaction. I’ve held many wonders upon this realm. I scoured formerly n’ my shade, claiming Voidal Relics, t’ lost treasures left forgotten and barren. Every-time, I felt further from complete. Would-think with the infamy and power I was collecting, even the fortune I had. There’s no way I wouldn’t feel a sense of freedom sought or grandness. Regardless a gap waged between. Acquiring those ambitious endeavors took extreme sacrifices, not always on my account. I asked much ov’ my fellows. Two-men on the crew who were lovers had much to still-live on and found eachother in my stead, recently-wed, n’ they willingly chased after these materialistic-gains, fer me…  One voyage, required t’ see a difference-make against a War of the Depths that came t’ our shores. Despite their commitment to each other that adventure was seen-through by them. It’d prove the last-moment they shared together. One of them became corrupted, tainted by a relic’s influence, consumed ov’ ration, and killed their own heart; the very partner.” Broke-down and strings inside holding his composure, snapped. Quivering in his voice to encounter realization, “W-what, kind of Cap’n does that? I kept getting my hearties killed! Thwarting away futures not my claim t’ take. Cause of selfishness, greed, to prevent others from having all th��� cards n’ their own coffer? What th’ HELL was th’ justification!? They should still be together…” Balling his fist, nails-delving into his palm until bled. She wrote notes on her clip-board before setting it down. Unknowingly a part of her… Slumbering was strictly-involved in that War of the Depths. Reincarnation of the very-prime-foe. Even beyond both their known. Captain felt it instinctively during their meeting. Soon washed away the notion and mistrusted his own instinct. Because it wasn’t all-true. She demonstrated a whole difference to the advisory, formerly named Siren among Sirens in mythos, who orchestrated and owned an Empire at Depths of the Rohtano. Calmly and understanding from his perspective, “Cap’n we can’t carry everything outside us and blame our shoulders for not staying upright, otherwise we anchor and quickly follow-pursuit of the dead. You said it yourself they willingly followed and saw crucially a mission you-mentioned for that War? What would’ve happened if they didn’t? I’ve to bet more lives lost; War unfortunately is that, there’s no real-fortune any side attains. Always loss-occurs. Think they would-agree that was in-vain? Would they-be any happier or rested souls, knowing their Captain they shared who guided them to another foremost, sabotaged and chained himself because of their behalf? Your survival has a lot of guilt, it’s harmful.” Lowering herself to extend the reach of voice, it never once, impacted a sense of thought or deep-truth to reflect in. Frustration was being quelled, she further descended down to pull him from shallow-bellows of torment. 

As-if her spirit was diving to rescue him, where misery and sorrow; drowns their victims. She attempted to explain with insightful unfathomable wisdom, “Perception carries and decides our reality. Instead of seeing your failure, think of victory. You won in some semblance a War, a tremendous feat; prevailing over it. Every-breath you take on carries extra-life of every fallen hearty you said goodbye, departed to those early sea-bed graves. Look what’ve you achieved, how you’ve mustered courageously, standing against that Past. You’re able to discern; what’s wrong or is containing your gravity. Wallowing is dangerous, making people stuck in-limbo, devouring the Future and preventing a Present from ever-leaving unwelcome shadows. One foot of yours seems to be stuck on shore. While another contemplates a leap to the tides. I’m not saying to forget. I’m saying to swim with your knowledge and experience, forward, forward, forgiving forward.” Her words didn’t instantaneously make a difference, but they were making-brief dents. Never-valuing or understood forgiveness especially towards one-self. Wasn't it easier to quickly throw down the hatch a few-pints of bottomless ale, hasten numbness? No-one wanted to confront-this, or themselves. Burdened with confronting our own burdens. Pain happens when caring. In-the-deep the rulers residing; sharks swam in this manner. Forward, never deterring. It’s all they knew, otherwise they lose breathing, resulting in death. Yet they reigned and exhibited lessons. Captain felt a lighter-sense of him wasn’t an instantaneous recovery but a progressive, steadied one. “Thanks Slafhota, I’ll see ye’ n’ Seven Sun’s same time, aye?” For first-session, it already felt like a right-step towards entering that tide becoming a king of his depth.

#Off the Hook #ffxivwrite2023 #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Tales of the Goldbrand #Slafhota Guhtgeim #Creative Writing #FFXIVWrite #Have ideas but zero health and energy #Maybe still come out of nowhere and tackle or catch-up #In this XIVWrite #If I get just one-good day. #This month #But not gonna rush myself into it #Especially since next chapter ideas would follow current-stuff

[captainkurosolaire]

An Undying Companion

Gale winds of relief blew away the vaporized disastrous fog clearing away allowing the Captain to his rigging aboard and embark. Collecting rubble left aboard noticing Casta’s journal left to them now completely ruined and water-logged scrolling through the pages that defined and she often documented her experiences and often wrote about him in a Tale. He felt such guilt, rumors of many librarian’s beliefs; that you can often tell much about how a person treats their books. Though it wasn't his keepsake in a particular way, his obligation was to provide security over cherished. Luckily knowing the source-material helped. Working with his old skills of forgery and actual genuine experiences began piecing together a new journal for his dear Crewmate’s hopeful return in extra commentary and more heartfelt personal. During his ship-voyage, believing alone going forth for a while, maybe forever onward, this would keep him sane. Below his cabin a noise was heard below sounding of barrels and storage in the hull being rummaged through. Sharp ears shooting up, “A stowaway, again? Seven Hells! Or is this one another ghost? I pray it's a bewitching company ov’ ever bountiful desire.” Quite alarming how common this was but knowing his fortune it’s probably the eighteenth assassin, maybe was him going crazy from detoxing away from his substances. Down-below in the bowels, lights were still damaged absent from the last-fight, making things rather gloomy. Within the corner hearing a chewing of meat to bone. He stayed vigilant before kindling a match to ignite a belt-lamp bringing forth the light to his shadow-invader. Pupils flared-disbelieved opening widely, tearing up but never releasing the valve, his fingers fidgeting, before his lips curved in unadulterated; happiness. 

Disobediently a crewmate went against his Captain’s words to split for the Summer, or disband knowing internally quite closely his leader. Undying loyalty stood up with cackling chains chewing on a former rabid chocobo’s dismemberment head chewing through the grates of his mouthguard messily eating eye-entrails like mortal’s spaghetti. The resident ghoulish horror on his Crew departed but struggled akin to a hound. With understanding Captain’s true intent or wishes of him disappearing, knowing somewhere Captain faintly, didn’t really desire to separate from his Crew in the slightest but did it to safeguard the traitorous attacks. 

Witnessing the ship depart as Captain faced the traitor to reveal itself in confrontation. Couldn’t stop staring back, his intent was obvious; follow. Until the wise Zieton, Elezen observed before encouraging the creature of accursed fright, “You’re going to go after him, huh? Good. Guess I’ll tuck this aetheryte shard in your pocket I conjured, find yourself in peril, or catch-up with danger notwithstanding our agreed reconvening before the foreseeable Moons, I’ll know.” Waving off and walking none of this verbiage seemed like it was processing to a gluttonous creature who seemed to have its animalistic imprint to a degree, committed to repaying his unholy existence. Two others of Crew’s company sent him off for success, Slafhota who was to be a guardian for him had a strong-sense of emphatically knowing beings and creatures, sweetly asked the Ghoulish to not stray away or become consumed by his hungering ways, trained and conditioned to eat ill and spoiled flesh, that which was diseased, or in some cases, the absolute worst. Individuals that played farce to being monstrous those who sharpen teeth to the softest skin. Whilst the peculiar, bubbly personality, Viera, Whyte energetically added, “I want to go too! …But catching up with a ship seems like an awful lot of work. Instead, I’m going to do what the Captain said and find something that brings me fulfillment so I can come back and bring him joy with what I learn! Maybe go shopping too with Me-Me! And-and! O~ Anyway maybe you can track him with this friendship bracelet Captain made with seashells. If it doesn't help snuff him out maybe help you know we’re all with you.” She wrapped it on the ghoulish Xaelaen’s horn. No-signs of amusement from any of them but a fiendish growl. Just glad silence came after they were done. Stoically rushing off following the coastline chasing the sea-vessel in the distance. Encountering multiple ravenous beasts, things proving as obstacles, but cut-through all them, ate them whole with consuming eagerness until using the little hunting in him, spatial perception and enhanced hearing brought him to a mission success.

A rare occurrence of disobedience being accepted Captain couldn’t escape a smirk, the amount of humane emotions urging out of him was defeated by something as detestable, devilishly foul, but it felt so authentic. It brought a realization and revelation just how different things were now, Captain perceived things were returning to him losing everyone or something all-over again, but karma perhaps for the recent event, seemed to be returned instantly. Signs of hope and jolly.  “Mate this is gonna require a celebration. I’m glad ye came back. If certain, then we’ll sail this ongoing black together. Plenty of stuff I could use to help in fixin’ up ‘ere. I’m going to need t’ drink-jollies until I’m o’ alabaster white-dead-to-right in complexion, near my grave like ye appear my grim’n’crim lad! But ye make me feel entirely otherwise ~ alive.” Though it wasn't ever vocally echoed back, the ghoulish ink sclera, blood-viciously sanguine hues absorbed, no doubt constantly observing things in powerful details, deciphering and puzzling together; anything with intent, with heartbeats, their expressions slightly shifting and moving. Whenever its curse or affliction showed reprieve, all this would prove to be a pandora’s box, of unbridled importance to determine a genuineness of his nature. A deadly-sounding shriek snarled out as the Xaela was uprooted off the floorboards in a ferocious bear hug of impressive degree before lowered. Captain confessed, “That’s how one typically shows their fondness n’ greetin’s to a fellow-lad. That or they get a bit more raunchy or share n’ some adultery with company or another, but that can be a lesson in another dawn-break. I’m sure you’d be quite popular as a courtesan, t’ them, I’d reckon you’re an exotic specimen.” Startled the godless fright look paralyzed and confused before finally motioning back, seemingly understanding the motive behind Captain’s first sentimental words, he grabbed the Seeker and tossed him overhead with a overzealous amount of strength, thinking it came down to power to determine who dominantly cared more about their treasured friends. Bearing that in mind, he’d surely kill them; win if required. The competitiveness of the Xaela still swelled in that bloodstream. Captain let out a painful howl until colliding into a bunch of barrels crashing. Stricken dazed seeing stars before shrugging it off, “...Ow.” Folded up like an accordion, before recomposing with a heartwarming boisterous laughter and treating this as a challenge to Captain approved, “Alrighte toss’n’ me round’ like the cheapest Eorzean whore?! I wouldn't gone that far, that's comparable to wrestlin’ but I respect yer spirit! Aye… Y’know let me repay that n’ full.” Crackling each knuckle and popping his neck committed to spare, back and forth they’d beat the brakes off another, tossing the other around, punching each other until what should’ve been a common-hug shared became near physical brawls anytime they’d come across another until swelled bones, bruised aches and nearly breaking their bones on each contact putting iron sharpens iron into their bond that was forging. The Worldly Finder teetering slightly through ebbs and flow, piercing through smashing waves partaking off to the Far East where his Father awaited who could finally provide the answers to his Seeker in a Son. A new-waving flag ruffled through trifling breezes.

[Prev:Chapter]: Fog x Quest ~ ♪"The Curse"♪

#reader discretion advised #-Captain Kuro Solaire #FFXIV Writing #Tales of the Goldbrand #Nihlius Brood #Creative Writing #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Cerberus #Whyte #Zieton Luiard XII #Slafhota Guhtgeim #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

[captainkurosolaire]

X3 ~ Deathly Design

Reference ~ Unfortunate Future ~ ♪"Unbroken"♪

 Upon a dry-desolate land field of sands. A destroyed-convoy caravan left a smoke-signal upon the skies torched. Scattered around could only be explained as a massacre. Ruins, mangled, battered, broken cadavers of crimson-wearers.

Said their red-they famously wore represented the blood they sacrificed or had spilled. Trying to play honor among fellows. Putrid, disgusting… When did it happen? When did pirates become a bunch of soft-heart; little bitches? Care about others outside their Crews. Facade, another lie. Maelstrom sells others' beliefs; they're what Rules the Seas. Taking over-every route. Policing and enforcing marine-law. Creating a hub that’s only known-remaining.  How many Beast Tribes, they chase out of their territories? How many walls were made against nature? How many-times, they had to get on their knees, and got bailed out by a Warrior who had no reason to be involved. Calling themselves pirates, poor imitations. Only vigil remaining of pirates were the ones who were chased out, those who had semblance of identity, voices too distinguished, still-carry. 

Embers were being snuffed out, their crews, desires of freedom, stomped out prematurely, eaten and spit down their throat, and then told to say, thank-you. Those-who governed with invincible numbers and that fleet, was all they had. Revenge consumed one man. Who carried the burden, weight, of his dying breed of people, a self-inflicted-martyr. Pressure, twists like a knife, darkens a soul. Shouldering the responsibility of bygone-eras. He once reigned with gallantry. Individual-rogue was dead. Wishful thinking to hope this was a cruel-dystopian-joke, future’s roots finally known. 

Good-riddance. This manipulated realm would rejoice their thanks in time, they’d acknowledge and revere him. While he conquered them all for their benefits, because no-one else was capable.

All those left skewed, left to the afterlife, to be absorbed into the soils and amount to actually something, and attained freedom. If they-were actual pirates. He’ll be waiting for their appreciation in the Seven Hells, expectantly. Bloodstain leather-studded boots walked away from the scene. Mantled-cloaked, holding himself like some prestigious, acclaimed pirate-king, dreadful-aura surrounded him. Behind a land-slide rock, sweat profusely leaked from a leg-shaken Maelstrom; yuck a survivor. Cowardice behavior showing their genuine-hide, self-preservation. Unfortunately this poor-sod, encountered this individual-once. Newly pure-destructiveness wasn’t seen before. His eyes-bulged, tears ruined his face, from a snot weeping nose. Hurt people,           Hurt people. All you must know.

Those blonde brows-angered together, his fellows with their entrails what-was-left of them, was upon his clothes. Looks like they got some-richer texture on their coat. Revenge was infectious like a poison-droplet; it could taint a whole barrel. That scoundrel… N-No-monster had to be stopped! This wasn’t the first-instance. Random locations of Maelstrom being deployed supposed to deliver or pick-up rations or goods, were being chosen, tactically. Small-ports, barely guarded, were being butchered, harvested. Malice did this for sport. Bilge-water rats squeaking pests amongst his lion den. Take away duty and employment expected from trade-deals. You risk clients and employers-ire, you create severe rifts. Costing a whole City-State ton not just gil, but reputation. He couldn’t oppose them directly in the open-waters. He could drain them of resources, create panics. Make a civilization of needy-greedy denizens start growing irate. Maybe put some teeth-back in their maws. A rifle was aimed shaken but nerves fought until steeled thinking of his kindred. The-kid had one-shot. Think a Miqo’te with trained senses didn’t hear, smell, that filth in that-rubble? He swung-back preemptively and the bullet-clanked against a plated-bracer worn on his wrists. Deflecting and taking rotation, golden-eyes-staring into the soul. Foul presence of dominance. Unbridled walking akin to tyrannical bosses. He owned this world and fucked it, You-forget how small it was? We trampled on it instinctively after-all, Our true-purpose. Amusement came, a smile, and shake of his head. “Want ta’ die, boy? I’ll get you t’ live-eternally.” Voice carried bass. Authority, sheer-certainty. For he alone, Him alone is believed, Necessary.

“Good-jewelry can b’ made. Think, I’ll cut yer toes, fingers off and wear em’ as a bone brooch. I’ll gouge-an eye, feast upon it while your other is left t’ witness. I’ll keep you breathing-barely functioning until I choose. To give ye freedom. We’ll see, if you’ve got in-fact a spine and strangle-it around that pretty-neck like a noose. Like you hang my condemened people, every’ Sun' while getting fancy promotions and bein' publicly applauded.” Verbal painting ran through the mind of his opposition, on-a-wrong side of misfortune-law, visualizing, he felt his entire-being on a different plane altogether, happened. Blackbeard took the slowest-stride, heavy-stepping on soils. The lad-of-red was devoured long ago, by fear. Piss soiled his pants, until hysteria roared out and screamed, horror. “W-w-why us! Why us?!” He needed to reload his rifle. Couldn't find-strength like his digits-were already gone. This pirate’s-dreadful Presence, was… unfathomable wicked.

Playful-remorse showed on the Seeker. “Mommy-send you out here to die? Cruel of her yet not unexpected. Wanna-know why? Cause I can.” Speaking of the ill Admiral Merlwyb, nobody remained holding balls left to stand against her. She collected them in her purse. A purest savagery reason, a Scourge no-doubt about it had become the very-thing he once, paraded around-to-exterminate. A chilling-grin forebode on that visage. Pirate-stopped in his tracks letting-confusion and relief travel in his victim. An-attack was already made. Living-animated chains from his sheathed scimitar’s hilt had conceal, snaking around his leg burrowing in the sands.              Creeping until jailing his prey to his shackled-fate.

“Play pirate. Get th’ real-deal’s attention. I’ll b’ nice… Unlike you all-did with courtesy, bringing the severed-head of my wife, sayin’ ye found her. Maybe, I’ll do that with you. Leave you as a parting-gift on the Admiral’s desk, Starlight is comin’ around th’ corner. Get a little-sweet on her.” Vengeance, irrational-rage, vile revenge had finally-claimed the-once heroic pirate to act on bottled-past. “I-I-I Didn’t do that terrible act, I swear!” He proclaimed trying to run away, his feet-entangled, chain already taking his ankle, tripping up on his own feeble-true design finally shown. Those little-badges worn, ranks, they only account so far. Then when you’re left without numbers, bodies, you’re nothing more than another’s, kill count. Tsking, disappointing from his pursing-lips. “O’ poor-lost-soul so unguided, I’ll ferry ye’ home... You wear that-crest. Collective-n-crew, a walking ship, ye-live like a hivemind donning your crimson uniforms. Wanna carry the-others blood so badly, fine. I’ll paint that symbol. There’s a sea-that-finally swallows ye’ all.” There was no-deterring this mindset. Black-clad Captain, was overwhelmingly taken by murder on the mind. Had become-his-recent favorite vice.

The victimized-man crawled trying to scurry but the predator enacted haste for execution. As he neared-closer, in the clouds-roaring a draconian-cry shrieked. Snowflakes descend below-staining, unimpressive in Blackguard’s dismay.

Newly brandished, foiled Noble Hero, of the historical past had come to save days. Opposing forces from several-fates yet again, staring to beholden gaze.                          Piercing Blues to Unyielding Golds. A shining-pillar white knight, once thought dead, had resurrected with redeeming qualities and elegance, pristine. Once former being a spitting-image of Captain.  Now they’ve flipped, again.

Would’ve and should’ve stayed that dead, a pirate’s desire remained. A cold-unforgiving scowl gave rise to this incomplete-world, a Blackest Sun heralding as a Champion. Wasn’t going to forgive this transgression ruining spoils.

Meet The Sworn.

Ft. @lordshiroelune

#reader discretion advised #Extra-credit #ffxivwrite2023 #FFXIVWrite #tales of the goldbrand #creative writing #seeker of the sun #keeper of the moon #maelstrom #Black Chapters #Forever Destined #Creative Writing #-captain kuro solaire

[captainkurosolaire]

Fog X Quest

 Worn leather boots sauntered towards a new destination where discovery of self could be realized, purpose. A following sentimental butterfly colorfully guided this mirror-soul given manifestation, observing distantly, currently the delinquent was cocooned from just how vibrant he was becoming; the pattern of his distinct wings and light soaring alongside could hatch into. Could a pirate thrive with their heart intact? This realm was far from done, giving a gauntlet of challenges. As his scarlet destiny was beginning to unfold. Plankwood of old familiarity creaked on each step, in grace on the pier his ship-anchored with much repairing that required, reconstruction keeping him on land for a while. Showdown of a broken brotherhood caused their flag they once both commonly shared, to be engulfed in raging flames; a new flag was required to be made leaving behind a past, yet still tatted and brandished, ushering his age in resemblance of a new golden jolly roger. A nasty grueling fog that blanketed visibility to nearing zero had taken over the bay near the Velodyna River that led directly to the Sea of Jade. Unable to even witness the waving blues that often welcomed him home. Practically a kiss from mere sight alone from a lover, eternally bound that couldn’t find separability. Keen feline ears led him and used a remarkable sense of smell. Grief-stricken, a loud plea heard puncturing through fog. <”Please help! My boy!”> Tears heard in each octave confining in a Wildwood weeping before his torso, Twin’s Adder watching over port. Formidable the elezen’s sights often were and hearing it wasn’t conditioned for this fog, one could argue this wasn’t even natural. Judging by density and thickness the fog took claim. Solaire held suspicions, often felt the sea underwent something disheartening and sickening like this accompanying warry silence, he knew inside that fog rampant tides were stirring angrily, battles were being contested somewhere on his beloved blues. Any who dared themselves to sail or press forward against this, often asking for them to be swept away and lost forever. Another distinct-shout heard in crying pleas, “Mommy!! HELP Momm-” Further apart heard in proximity no doubt deep within the waters as it raised and began swallowing the child. Still arguing between those who deemed-closest to authorities, an Adder held hesitation, preservation, cowardice, knowing if leapt in would most likely not make it in time; a wastless cause. Just another victim wasn’t like he ever claimed to be a coastal lifeguard. With fury and restlessness a rebellious soul urged forth from the fog a cherished hat falling, the mother was desperate enough to jump into the tides on her lonesome, but felt a yank back by her dress and sent off balance; as if wind enacted it, a thwart of rare selflessness entered, “Outta th’ damn way!!” The Adder who’s lengthy body was in a crouch trying to use an aetherial spy-glass but was stepped on, used as a springboard diving plank for the Miqo’te to unruly gain a big leap towards treacherous waters. 

Another outcry lastly heard, after momentarily anxious-inducing pause, with feint of breath being lost and gurgled out as the youngster and waves had collided ferociously, pristine swimming following a combination of <Huton> surging his ankles, contesting rivalry with the current. A little-arm of promising future was sinking down drowning before hitting the bottom, a wrist was grabbed strongly before pulled in by the least likely in appearance wise. Breath-withheld while taking them to the surface, they couldn’t foresee anything. Wave’s were moving them outside the starting position, confusing tides and exit. Sense’s flare heightened animalistic alongside adrenaline the Miqo’te paused even though it was often time to panic. Inner primitive instinct told him to await; experience carrying, shielding his sailor arms and exhaled and inhaled breath, listening to clashing waters respectfully, but couldn't detect was coming but a riptide of large proportions came blowing forth towards the coast, always leading back towards the pull of land and drawing back. The muscular Seeker landed harshly onto the pier back-first, quickly his feet had to sink down and hold the pair of them from getting drawn back with the gravitational pull. No opportunities to dally, the Seeker gently laid out the lad’s airway and gave precise few light rescue breaths following with compressions to expunge fluid build-up trapped, until a good-sign cough boyishly came with relief in resuscitation. The moment the boy-came too startled the sailor who saw them return to normal even after a near-death experience, and shout for their mother in apologetic volley tears. Maternally grieving already but shot up from her depression as they both called out until reunited again, in-spite the fog’s dismay. Captain’s callous scarred-palms were trembling and shaking, unable to believe, …he actually rescued a life of many who came into his crossroad, often terrible or grim fortune despite coming to those of his perceived responsibility, he was supposed to guide them otherwise into boundless riches but proved; a failure dozens. Reciting trauma from an oppressing enemy, Sol rang against him that following the light was pointless, sooner or later, he’d become no different and become a blight relation to his kindred of seas; crueler and hardened, lacking sympathy for land-lovers. Sea-walkers in belief never saw any amongst land with any true obstacles, challenges, that couldn’t be avoided or steered away a bunch of weaklings. 

They didn’t wake up against a different force or mood of powers beyond them in seas, or enemies flooding by with varied sins, creatures lurking in the depths beneath their rigs, that makes them paranoid, the longer an actual pirate lives, the more enemies they accumulate never-ever-less the price, of unfathomable freedom is distant peace and blood. ~ Exposed to this lifestyle, weathers one monstrously. Interminable they’re left in the environment, skin of humane sheds like their famed Primal Serpent; becoming savage and beastly. She didn’t chew out her son, just embracing longingly and tenderly. Thankfully for her child's safety, two-pieces completed beautifully. The sight made a very rough-man find contentment, these were treasures to him. Irreplaceable values that couldn’t be priced, connections and joining. He disagreed and defied his own fellows, showing unbridled compassion towards the denizens of land and gratitude. Not wanting to overstay he began to turn-away. Sobbing explanation came, “I j-just wanted to give-daddy his medicine, he’s been out at sea too long.” Revealing the hopeful child’s wishes to do-good which showcasing courageousness. Grizzly the Seeker’s lip’s extended in a genuine sunshine grin, noticing the Mother spoke-up, before the man, no…! Hero clad in black mysteriously vanished. Causing Captain to pause, the Mother, whispering something to her child who ran up and hugged his pant’s leg, “Thanks Mister!” Enthusiastically shouting, Taken-back by it, the Seeker kindly gave a pat and lowered, “What’s this ov’ ye challenging the’ sea so early? Think I’ve rescued my future Cap’n, you’ve revealed true-bravery.” Kindness flashing praise despite the child perhaps thought would gravely be chewed out by grown-ups. 

The fledgling smiled slightly, before remorse followed by a frown, “I-I just wanted to give this to my daddy but fog came and I couldn’t see even my hand!” Gruffly the roguish-man scratched his goatee, “So ye were going t’ swim all-the way to him? How would you possibly know where he b’?” A head shake, “No I built a boat with daddy but was taken away with tides and I fell in. My Daddy is the greatest fisherman and sailor in the whole-wide realm! Everyone says so! …Just isn’t like him to begone this many Moons. It must be a big-fish like Leviathan himself! ...I’d scour anywhere for him.” Intently the Blackguard heard, before could speak, the Mother interjected, “You must be a formidable sailor yourself, I’m blessed and most humbly praise Llymlaen for bringing you in our need.” A fluster heat of all this goodness was uncomfortably against his nature. 

Modestly the ghostly scoundrel confessed, “Something like that summers-ago, aye. ...Oi’ well then, I got a proposal. What if ye leave me t’ that quest?! Ye should stay here with yer endearing Mother, she needs you here. If tides are n’ my favor, I’ll be led to’ yer ol’ man, I’ll have him race back to sweet harbor; home. Count on it! So what ye’ say, lil-Cap’n? One-day you’ll undoubtedly become a mighty-force upon her enchanting-blues but until that Sun! ...I’ll b’ yer grown-will.” Lowering himself beneath the level in a one-legged kneel. Playful way the seasoned eye-patch pirate made the sniffles act up again, looking to his guardian who beamed kindly until wiping any sense of droplets from cheeks with his own-sleeve, “Aye.” An agreement-made. With a toothy-fang grin and extending his thumbs up in approval, “Take care ov’ yourselves until then.” Straightened posture before standing up with a role model stance, fading into the fog, the medicine canister alongside asking for a little locket he noticed that contained a sketch of the father. Waving off a farewell before fetching his trademarked adornment and continuing his voyage ahead. 

[Prev:Chapter]: Prelude to Destiny ~ ♪"Let It In"♪

#-Captain Kuro Solaire #Tales of the Goldbrand #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Creative Writing #FFXIV Writing #Releasing multiple chapters today #Work on more this upcoming month tackle little by little #Hopefully #Life definitely curb stomped my mental #But I got a destination to reach #And unless I arrive at it. I'll forever be unfulfilled. #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

[captainkurosolaire]

Writing Archive ~ A Tale Thus Far

[The Compendium] ~ More colorized way of the organization of my writing as a whole. The difference being, I use a index system to color sort the importance of them. Plan on as I go on to put them in-order of timeline of events. (I'll rework it) [ToG Compendium 1] [ToG Compendium 2] [ToG Compendium 3] [Volumes] ~ Key points with screen-sets that center around Captain's Main Story Quest with various promotional visuals I worked on before leading up to them. Star will indicate = Where I currently left off. Since I follow a roller-coaster timeline and force myself to continue-off to unlock the next thrill. [Volume 1: Coal to Gold] [Volume 2: Revivify] [Volume 3: Chasing Kismet] [Volume 4: Scarlet Destiny] 🌟 [Various Arcs] ~ Personal thing for my convenience to easily hop to a period. [Legacy of Goldbrand] (Oldest Writing) [Box of Pithos] (Complete ~ XIVWrite2018) [Second Death & Coming] [Black Devil Saga] [Freedom vs Order] (Budokai 2) [The New Dawn] (Complete ~ XIVWrite2021) [Immortal Age Saga] [Young vs Old] (Budokai 3) [Misc.] [Insights] - Glimpses of major supporting / crew in my style. [Soul Journey]- "Vision Quests" [Coffer]- Arsenal of Relics/Treasure used in story [Collectively] - Tag with all my latest writing. [Future Plan / Projects] Dynamics - Shows off "ships" between crew like the various bonds Recalls - Every story Recapped gonna be like soul journey format Shades - Insights (But for every antagonist ever)

(Shout-out to lovely @under-the-blood-moonlight for supplying updated commission work, been getting done behind the scenes for designs, to prep for bigger story-telling goals. Got Captain's final design accurately made.)

#Masterlist of all writing #For my intro post #Simplify things in one link #ToG #Tales of the Goldbrand

[captainkurosolaire]

A Day Before Woe

 Pair of wheels bound to a chair for a maimed, battered gruff pirate, who paraded as a Champion was left critically conditioned. Opposition he conquered over was his idol, once a remarkable sea Goldbrand Captain who once herald many stories that peers would’ve recalled over folktales to docks a type worth inciting gossip. Now that legacy was only a ghostly remnant of what could’ve been, more potential never given proper realization.

Deep-down that victory was a let-down, notwithstanding him being in appendages, neck-brace, or temporarily bound ridden handicap. Like most-idolized, often our minds make them larger than life. Only for future disappointments to discover in truth. Often projecting our desired selves, in another and betrayed by the role-model's failure with it being one mutually felt shared from vicariously living.

Sinbad gained an unbridled, self-ignorance, his ego validated flourished, there was no one left who could oppose him in belief; now or ever. Everything revolted against this rookie. Though he defiled odds standing atop the current pirate food chain, he attained pure success uncontested, even if just a lick, a superiority complex manifested. It made this, youthful-lion, No... A viscous shark; who crunched and ate the elder lion's glory and relished donning the trophy mantle, irrationally dangerous. Consequently, the crosshairs of the misfortune of losing the battle. Kuro's beloved Pride of three-most valued Crewmates of the Goldbrand were contract to a shaken deal for a whole Summer. Former First Crewmate Judas departed after an emotional falling out. Directionless and had given up on any sense of his own freedom and quest, they were now seen as obscured impossibilities. This was visibly atonement for betraying and acting cowardice in his past, a pill to swallow lastly. 

With an unenthusiastic disgruntled pitch the Midlander spoke against his new employing Highlander in mock, “O’ Cap’n well… what will you have of us.” Clearly not wanting to even entertain this, but more keenly he had always had an ill-feeling about this brash pirate and their entire Crew a bunch of immature heathens that took life so carelessly. Regarded being a snake himself, familiarity could be sniffed, traitorous blood floating in neighboring water. This stead was driven by glory, a majority gained chalked into fortunate events, luck. Sinbad, his new Summer Cap’n, held seemingly boundless strength but one-day inevitably would clash with something that’d not bend nor break. Mayhaps betrayal, or something due to inexperience, the wrong pirate won that pit, he was certain. Upon this young upstart Crew was merely limbs, nameless hands and legs. Submissively broken souls that gave their freedom away for momentary lapses of glint. Boisterous laughter left the highlander until his sternum ached and pain struck him to quell-down, “Could you care to least pretend you wanna be here? Three-months, might be an eternity otherwise… I can assure you that. Look where you are now. Taking failure for your pathetic Captain wagered everything into. You told my lass to silence herself in a disrespectful way at our parley long-ago, and now I’ve got the power to silence you as my dog, fitting. What and when I command; you’ll roll over and bark, boy!” Raising his voice in declaration at the end, ensuring who dominantly stood, even… well considering he physically currently, could not. Judas scowled, fellow brow’s frowned but sassed, “Last I checked my Cap’n, had more metal bones than you’ve got. Least he was wobbling on one-leg, and not like you whose is truly left rolling around.” Mocking the condition of the arrogant muscular moron. Unafraid to rebelliously sass, he also made a promise to watch over the other two, Klethera and Casta was also stuck in this arrangement. If angering this tyrant and getting stuck with their share of overloaded work and nonsense, then he’d take it deemed in Repentance. Ensure swiftly and safely, possibly could devise. Strategic webbing planning worked as the wheel-chaired oaf gave out an offended huff, “Bullshite, you’re bluffing no-way little Solaire isn’t still feeling the effects of our battle. I’d wager he threw everything at me, after-which wallowed in his substances and poor-vices in typical fashion, and you know what… I respect and condemn that alcoholic junky for showing up to our hellish bout, coming close, but I won by an inch, so I’ll take my fucking mile victory. It won’t be long, before I’m healed, then I’ll get back to bashing in trunks and skulls. Until then, you’ll have to lap up the taint-end of my business.” Crudely pointed fact.  The Midlander bit his lip to retort further, tension between them. Two volatile elements that weren’t friendly to combine.

Time bellowed forth as the three in Sinbad’s command was left nearly with every responsibility, Casta using her medical knowledge to help get him standing on crutches in physical therapy, roaming around. Klethera was sent often on messenger and hired goon to retrieve debts. While Judas was left with the most life-threatening missions, with no rest in-between. Nothing he wasn't accustomed too, conditioning himself tirelessly towards once before for a noble ambition. Up till their final day appeared, and contract was fulfilled. The Boss highlander sat now in a befitting chair treating it like some grotesque throne luxuriously diamond-encrusted prime shades looking below twiddling his ringed-fingers, dazzled with assortments of bling; high living, “You managed to survive this Summer, somehow providing usefulness despite who you once followed. What remains in task, is a simple gathering between fellow low-life's. I owed them monthly shares of gil alongside my plunder…" Pursing lip's soaring highly with a daring-thought. Lowering his shades, doubling down like some hot-shot movie star. His pirate queen lass behind him caressed his muscular stature only furthering his tyrannical beginning. "...Now I don’t see why I’d ever have to continue paying off them anymore. My infamy is about to shoot-up, I’ll be getting the royal bounty treatments. So YOU my darling rag-tag bunch will convince them, find another sugar daddy. They can find their purse elsewhere, or become creative to eliminate that noise if they dare fuss, give them no quarter.” Judas’s haggard visage wrinkled, sharp-blue orbs were left murky, his eyelids were bagged tirelessly overworked, weight loss, parched lips and complexion didn’t fare well, absolutely deprived of energy and sapped to even refuse, but had peculiar sixth-sense this wasn’t wise, nervous bumps swarmed up his arms, intuition to fuss, but was drowned due to all his other ailments. This deplorable chapter and nightmare; Summer of Sinbad, held closure by mid-day. Underneath relief as his other two-companions weren’t like him in shape, thankfully sighing. While Klethera and Casta shared disbelief of their First Crewmate’s convicted resolve to remain a guardian even outside of their former mutual flag.

Danger within Sinbad’s new attitude intrinsically wasn’t his own danger that held frightening concern. …But what fed on rash thinkers. Above all other forms. In darkness dwelling almost certainly, lurked a set of blood-thirsty behemoth predators, dragons; monsters which consumed the lowly deemed ‘'predators”’ effortlessly.

One-night remaining to rest. Judas couldn’t shake the shivers of the cold brigs forced to lay near a barred window almost like a cell. He was superstitiously forewarned when the tide grew so silent like this dusk. He was kept personally wide-awake. Sharpening his hidden dirks, anxious, most likely there would be blood spilled in ten bells. No way this whole assembly involving cutthroats, pirates, could go smoothly… Didn’t help Sinbad didn’t elaborate which ("band") they were about to cross.

Casta couldn’t escape her routine nightly tears; she confined herself typically to writing but currently held no way to unleash or express her downtrodden emotions. Harm was felt in her healing with guilt, surgically stitching the very person who demolished her revered hero in a Seeker Captain. Casta wasn’t far from Sinbad; they both shared their stories why they looked up to the scoundrel black-cat, but perspective couldn’t be further how they handled it. She saw the contrast of just how vastly different her Seeker was in leadership, treating subordinates like actual-beings and equal, giving freedom catching people from slipping off the teetering sea-vessel wanting to chart the character, and depths of souls, judging actions not faceless covers. Versus Sinbad’s commandment, whose self-serving acting; all means to ends. It brought back familiar trauma that festered in tremors, abundant cold sweats. She couldn’t identify her own anger building, but negativeness, being generally overwhelmed was consuming her most-humane gentleness. Comparable to a flower being watered-down with ever punishing downpour, merely hoping it could-brave and survive another night.

Lastly aboard was Klethera who volunteered working off sentence. Her fault in belief, feeling Sinbad in twisted-way, was grieving despite mouthing otherwise, taking life-careless and acting so righteous in a way. She brought down Sinbad’s brother’s life to end… despite that man having a putrid soul, was unquestionably not hers to take. That’s the issue with deemed heroes; they're often shouted praise for them destroying evil but they enact themselves evil's color, murdering to achieve resolutions of peace. She felt guilt, knowing better, should have captured and let chains, or cells hold nonredeemable. Yet... Hanging around the pirate crowd construed her thinking, she witnessed how many couldn’t be contained by that method. So when then?! If at any, extent should evil be annihilated? Who can reside as judge? Her perceived bloodline was tainted; a pirate father definitely had his share of kills, alongside a grandfather who assassinated countless men for shreds of peace, she didn’t want to partake in that savagery of ending any more lives or one another, the rebellious attitude flowed so beautifully identical to her predecessors. ...However, could she really escape fate standing above a mountain of bodies? Maybe her father was right and couldn’t keep up with this atmosphere. Making her sizzle with heat, an acceptance stubborn to admit… She began dreaming of a new-way to battle, it’d be her own-style to materialize. The three in unison before dawn-break, connected a thought, wondering what became with their Crew having to depart right before this harrowing, learning shortly a traitor was creating chaos among their own flagship. For a brief-moment, they began to feel close; like an actual family forming, now a distant memory from unending chaos.

[Prev:Chapter]: Prelude to Destiny ~ ♪"Warm Shadow"♪

#Trying out new sequence breaks #Long chapter #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Tales of the Goldbrand #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Judas Caesar #Creative Writing #FFXIV Writing #Sinbad the Young #Casta #Klethera #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

[captainkurosolaire]

Farewell, Friends.

A neighing mare of sudden pause, loomed over a port. Awaiting was a crumbling empire, a sea vessel that laid host to countless memories. Overhead above clouds brought a grieving shadow. What anticipated prior, began to drizzle as accursed rain wept. The Captain underneath canopies, with stolen steed reached a trot before he hopped off saddle-back. Petting with a gentleness, warmth, not befitting with callous hands for a savage. Praising the life curated before it,  with such a serene grace, before fetching his back satchel and giving over a small container of berries. “Go home.” He patted lastly, watching his tamer for a briefness, but took off with the commandment of his hand swatting off distantly. Tears of sky poured onto his being. Walking softly up the gangplank to his ship’s deck and parking under the flag ship's main mast. Surveying left and right, with a scan, giving a crooked smirk, what a tremendous story. His feline ear’s picked up the sound of his closest. It filled him unlike anything. The flood continued to drench him. Sorrow often always followed him aside with rain, oh ...how he despised it. Always leading to era-defining change. This day felt as such. Removing his shirt to connect himself closer to nature. Letting the flood wash over him lean against the pillar mast until laying prone staring up into the drifting clouds. Allowing genuine tears to become hidden. From Crew’s being massacred, to mutinies, mental-fallout, to being shipwrecked. Overcome all those ordeals, somehow attracting a reason to rebirth. All wanting was his Crew, to not only retrieve the best, but somewhere safe like his perception of family. The bastard orphan; turn incidental successor of a Pirate Captain, never could keep it very long.

Those dismantlement's have a singular man at the helm; who survived there’s no mistake, he held guilt. His current Crew, who seemed destined for being a Last, was in turmoil from a stealth traitor. Evidence of irrefutably surfaced, as long as Captain lived and remained, he couldn’t preserve anybody and neither was peace.

Sometimes, treasure’s so big that can’t even fit in your palm are brought before you. They breathe abundance, rich unmatched soul-fulfilling happiness. Greed wanted this forever, but there proved one painstaking, gut-wrenching, solution.

Abruptly his confession of internal pain quelled, hearing an energetic Viera referred to as Whyte, “Captain! What are you doing out here silly? You’re going to catch a cold! Don’t worry I’ll umbrella you!” Her playfulness began swatting and striking against every rain and gave a hi-yah! She puffed herself up with a inhale, and pretended to be a balloon. Striving but unsuccessfully, he couldn’t help but smirk. He gasped air out with a lowness, “Will ye assemble the Crew t’ th’ galley for me?” Now attempting to catch every rain-droplet with her mouth but making fish-faces, hearing the tone in his voice even subtle she paused from her antics. “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” She saluted before scurrying with an unyielding robust energy. Gathering composure, Kuro refreshed before joining his community. A mountain of feast prepared as his various Crew’s personalities all squabble and contrasted another, except three empty seats. Those stung against his heart chords, was his fault. There was a behemoth Hellsguard with jolly laughing and tugging at a boar’s cooked head with a tiny Lalafell, “I’m bigger Me-Me show honor! I deserve the largest portion as tribute!” Comically the pint-sized Lalafell was giving him trouble in a strength contest. “Let go, Gark, I’m warning you! – Do you want to die?” Looking into her blackhole of eye’s he removed his grip. “Uh-uh, you know what. I'll just take the chocobo leg. Only ‘cause I’m a gentleman!” He tried saving his knight-bound pride, but reality afraid. What a chaotic Gremlin.  The sweetest Matron’s voice chimed, “It’s no worry, I prepared extra.” The mastodon Crimson Baron brought his hands together, “Dear Twelve, Thank you for blessing us with Slafhota.” Then proceeded to animistic gnawing bite. The maiden of sea who proved to be Captain’s advisor and counselor saw the Seeker’s troubled visage.

“Are you okay Captain?” She softly asked with an allurement that could soothe anything over, everyone pausing with a stare. “... I think we should disband. Least fer th’ year, the other’s are gone that long anyway.” Shock traversed through all them. “Whaaaa!” Said Viera, who’s boundlessness was screeching off the rails. The Wildwood Elezen meditating in corners, thought with insight, could see carefully through Captain’s ruse, his planned intentions to bait out the culprit, traitor, hiding amongst them. “So it’s like that.” Intelligently and without emotion didn’t fuss, instead a smile amused occur. Heat broke through the room, tense. “It’s funny… Could’ve sworn I heard him – our LOVELY Cap’n suggest we disband! If that was the case, I’d have to castracate and add a cat to our menu!” His meal was soured, interrupted, intimidating with his hulking presence and began standing across with daggers.

Captain’s head didn’t sulk or lower itself further, instead with a brazenness, “You heard me, I said we should disband. Or least, me. As long as I’m surrounded by Crew, the traitor will never reveal themselves, furthermore, like Slafhota, secondary injuries will occur in your attempts t’ protect me. When I was left on my own, attempts against me didn’t halt. This hatred, animosity, of the betrayer will extend until they have me cornered, or dead to rights. I can stand up to many things in life; but what will keep me up, does affect me, is bringing pain to what–who matters. I will not have you all end up like my other botched, failed, and bottom-sea dwelling kindred. Ye are what I treasure! ...But I will relinquish you t’ save shining glory.” Said having to squish his own heart like a Scourge to-do this feat.

The Hellsguard wrathfully roared, “HELLS! You’re dead Cap’n, I didn’t leave my peaceful retired life just to have something end with dull! YOU DESERVE TO BE ALONE, YOU MISERABLE MISCREANT!” Enraged with rage, he blazed through the feast and squeezed the Seeker against the wall making an indented crater. His dangerous fire, built up with his sorrow but was nullified by the Elezen who calmly put a fortified screen that surrounded Captain in a protective veil to safeguard him. The Might of the Goldbrand’s wrist was grabbed softly with a calming reassurance in the Sea Maiden, “Gark, come with me. It’s okay.” Like water she prevented the fire from escalating in destruction. Kuro, left unhooked, fell to his rear. Viera, often in positivity, was sobbing uncontrollably, “I don’t want to leave you! What will I do!?” Nothing could prevent the Scoundrel from feeling empathy. All of them were hurting.

“Pirate. I don’t always agree with you. However, this time I do. In-order to reach salvation, sometimes, you must leave things to faith.” Zieton the Historian who often was on the principal’s of the Twelve’s deeds, gave a surprising defense. With that, other’s began to buckle and accept their leader’s decision. Kuro closed his eyes momentarily before comforting Whyte, “It’s just fer a little while. Summer isn’t that long. Aim for sightseeing, enjoy your own interest. Yer life is worth discovering.” Patting and squeezing with a tight embrace before swinging her playfully around and landing on her feet and giving her a dancing twirl. She couldn’t help but be removed, the rain inside her stopped. Composing her sob, “U-um okay, but! I’m marking the calendar, a moment late, I’ll kick your ass!” She tugged his cheeks before spiritedly walking out to reconvene outdoors. The Wildwood Elezen had served as a caring mentor alongside his Counselor Slafhota. Three people didn’t voice their thoughts, either they were trusting, shy, or one of them was trying to contain their laughter, achieving what they wanted. Oblivious, one remnant of Crew, was the Ghoul who established a close-bond with the Fearless Pirate. Practically almost like that of a pet-owner as odd it sounded. Kuro took so much care to the often seen monstrosity. Unable to understand at all what was transpiring with lack of humanization behind such a foul-curse. Just continuing to drink blood-packs, Captain dropped to his knees, “Mate. You gotta go with th’ others. Follow, Slafhota, she’ll keep your needs met. Be the person who handles your gluttony.” Xaela paused and cast a head-tilt, not understanding one bit, instead tried sharing his food supply to his Captain.

The Seeker calmly refused, <“No mate! You have t’ go!”> Pointing at the doors and giving sign-language even speaking in his native that he was working on reteaching him, destined to one-day cure his blight; least was... Crazy to think but through all this frightening and horrified grimly appearance the Xaela, Captain felt so safe, a partial split-soul that was sundered, was identical. Getting up onto his twos, the towering presence over Captain. Chains that restrained him for the safety of others, by his own-doing. Were unhooked. “My nightly friend, b’ free.” Closing his eye’s ashamed and holding his head down, the Ghoul suddenly grappled the Seeker’s wrists, and pointed for the door. Implying they were going together. A hand on his hilt sword, with a boundless devotion to serve. Kuro resisted his tugging and chopped the leash of their connected link with having to destroy himself further, “NAY, I SAID GO! NOW!” Forcing his aether to spike and anger. Like; letting a bonded animal go, with a monstrous stare black sclera's and crimson orbs, the Nihlius hearing commandment forced him to obey; recognizing trouble, but not understanding anything. The worst kind of hurt to inflict on someone you love. Silence befell until he was left alone in a room of dark. [ ♫What if the Storm Ends♫ - Reference - Last Chapter ] (Reference since lot of Crew faces to consume.)

#-Captain Kuro Solaire #Tales of the Goldbrand #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #Creative Writing #The Crew #Traitor arc almost over #Seeker of the Sun #Just a little more but least soon after I introduce the super Antagonist #Can finally go back to XIVWrite style and just do stories of all sorts of variety #It's a saga with like 68 branches of arcs and everything #Ton to do still this year and probably few years #But everything adds up #Only you can create your stories #Actually learned to like myself again by doing this all #Thanks to the peeps and support it means everything to me #Even if seems small you're worth thousands to my eye #But also thanks to me for being relentless #Zieton Luiard XII #Nihlius Brood #Me-Me Worthy #Slafhota Guhtgeim #Ubylagynn Gark #Me-me #Gark

[captainkurosolaire]

Absence Ushers, Fate Declares!

Pitch blackness came with a shutter. Devoid of all outside this formless realm. That which materializes here is the product of Malevolence or Benevolence, judged in the corporeal plane, tried here… In this accursed place, it always felt there was no logic.       Nor rhyme, substance, only purely cryptic. The pirate was brought here in many ventures. Encountering specters, spirits, fragmented pieces of his own soul. Forcing answers to remove discord troubles. Ordinary referred to this merely, nightmares or dreams. His sole’s felt cold, as a small tide rippled through his toes. Recognizing this place he stood on a solid sea, but the wave’s were fluid… Separated layers of water… Impossible. In the real world, after he blacked-out, the Stranger recently met and took him to his place. Noticing this rogue broke out with a dangerous fever. Sweat rampant poured from his forehead and droplet’s collapsed onto his torso. Forcing the concerned gunslinger to remove the Captain’s shirt and noticing his countless battle scars… This didn’t appear to be a courtesan. He was shocked. A blanket was placed on him instead with a cooling rag on his forehead to dry combating the fever and balance his temperatures. In the parallel -- thick, dense, rain wept instead. Kuro shouted out, ��What th’ seven hells… I-Is going on!” Silence followed for a moment. A new visitor was here. Abruptly breaking through sound, a feminine voice brought thunder-streaks with distorted laughter, echoing in absence. Meanwhile on the surface… Terrifying puzzles continued to unravel to the bystander,  “What kind’a plague or sickness is this! Are you cursed?” Looking over at the pirate’s chest, his heart physically was thrumming against his body, elastically and almost inhumanely beating against his thinnest walls even the loose blanket couldn’t conceal it. The slumbering man's facial features were distraught, fidgeting with affliction.

Who on earth did this cowboy bring in? This wrangling, rough-weathered man’s room was an array of whiskey to moonshine bottles emptied and a complete mess,  he was an avid low-spirit drunk. A duet-picture framed, of a departed partner left on the nightstand. He wasn’t far different from the sailor. They both in that pub-crawl, in kismet decided for once to try to overcome their vices. Each carrying weighted grievance and unprecedented burdens. Captain yelled back into the void. “W-who is there?! Reveal yourself…” That damnable silence, called back… For a short-spell. Until finally salvation. “So hastily… No one desire’s sloppy rushes.”                                                   “I can’t wait to meet you.”             “Didn't you state that you’d conquer me in that hell.”     “Remember; inside that pit for sinners?”               “I wonder, are you man enough?”                                   “Come on, I thought you held the answers…”          “Concerning isn’t, there’s more questions.”                            “Know this…”         “I will be your judge.”               “Every wrong, every self-interest.”                         “All the hearts you broken, Captain.”   

Feet ran and traveled in the abundance of water-flooring trying to head to the voice. Being tormented, last time he solved this by punching his inferior-oppressor. This wasn’t the same force. Frustratingly the womanly voice with a sultry undertone, almost demonic, let a laughter amused by his failed attempts to strike against the untamable air. Only met with invisible connections. “Just who are ye?! What gives you th’ right t’ judge me?” He said frantically before recomposing trying to control what should be his, but unable.                                       Once again it taunted in the dark. “You act so innocent, oh but you’re so deadly.”                  “So am I…” “When you breathe it’ll be a hassle with me, silencing and muzzling you my beloved Captain.”                 “You lost your dominion here. This place isn’t yours alone.”                           “No sanctuary. “                           “No haven.”                                           “You’ll find power, it belongs to me.”                   Ominously whispers traversed and shook the realm. He felt his mouth gagged, unable to ask the dark anymore.         “Until our proper meeting. Try not to die.” "Everything will be explained." The rain fast-forwarded before a hailstorm of sanguine ichor and accompanying fallen bodies began to plummet like meteors into this tormented plane. Every single person buried to rest by Captain’s doing, or involuntarily ability to protect. His eye’s shot in horror, a lifeless cadaver like an anchor drop was going to squish him, holding his palm open to protect himself. He tried to scream but instead woke up in reality, before his savior who equally exhibited terror. After seeing this paranormal shit, one needed a drink again. Rushing to the Captain’s aide, “W-woah are yuh’ alright partner? How are you bleeding? Cut yourself? Hold on!” Still stricken in terror, trembling, never had the pirate felt so powerless and felt such a raw connection from what partaken in these psychedelic trips… This was indescribable. His palm actually was bloodied, the same one that tried shielding himself at the end of that frightful encounter. Recomposing from the dystopia. The wanderer attended to his bloodied palm by surveying and bandaging it, no cut’s visible or wounds noticeable by the naked-eye, almost if another’s blood entirely. “Name’s Castro Cassidy, take it you’ve got another story, aren’t tellin... I can't help but be interested.” Understandably trying to get answers, like someone with a sense of law. Settling down and looking on the side of his bed. He was going to confess truth, who he was. However, a disturbing turn occurred; he took notice of that photo of the couple, that other man, 'his partner', of this gunslinger. He recognized, Captain shot that man down in a life-or-death stand-off, a bounty hunter.

Damn... From dangerous event, to anew. Fate always, catches up.

The man who saved Kuro, went unhinged from his sorrow, letting demon's devour his problems, as many chose this path. The Blackguard, knew this well. Seeker gulped noticeably heavily, and tried to subvert everything. "What a scary, nightmare! Pretty real one at that... Can't express enough you fending for me, listen I'm sorry ye had t' see that. I clumsily forgot but thank you fer this and even back there against th' goons." Inside mentally screaming... That voice, told him, he was going to be judged for heart's that were broken. Is this a cruel result?

He wasn't just in the room with anyone, the pirate, was with a Lawbringer with former deduction expertise, even if dulled from poor habits. Although once a former; bounty hunter, he changed his life around. Until his partner passed...

Both heightened Miqo'te's instincts were sticking up. A rift of tension felt between them. One thing known -- ...no felt. Captain needed to lie himself out of this to survive!

The often accompany butterfly, the spirit-guide, was soaked in blood observing and hiding behind the window-seal, cleaning it-self with teeth grown.

🌊 ♫The Hider♫ - Reference - Last Chapter 🌊

#Cat & Mouse #FFXIV #Cowboy & Pirate #A new threat seeds. #Final Fantasy XIV #tw: dark themes #Safe but Unsafe #Creative Writing #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Lawbringer #What goes around.... #Tales of the Goldbrand #One day Tumblr will get on my level and increase the writing cap #But I hit a 3 day-writing streak #Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #I am Infinite & Mania

[captainkurosolaire]

Traitor

Downpour ceased into a gentle fall. Darkened clouds drifting with precipitation forewarned of a looming critical storm, yet faint, a hint of warmth, that circular Sun concealed from its duty could be given peer. Swelling with emotions of loss, amongst his own abode. A ship’s anchor was removed allowing tides their commandment of destiny. Blackguard, taking center deck, a shout bellowed out. “Come out. You’ve won, before I die here. I desire my why.” His gut-instinct knew who the culprit was. Defeat written in his body-language, slouching posture from deceit. He told the Crew to leave but the treacherous snuck aboard a scent the Miqo’te picked up. Paced feet drew forth from creeping shadows, a cloaked individual wearing a mask of Imitation of Mistbeard. Even alone, cowardice mind games are played. While a silver-pointed pistol with engravings <Silver Wind> had been locked onto the Captain since departure. Frowning unruly symbolism, apparel was a legacy attire the Goldbrand of Old used to assassinate, ruthlessly collecting hoards of other pirates, merchants, civilians. Ingrained steep into the culture of piracy. They took Mistbeard’s legend to commit heinous acts. As the original mask held reputation, to pass down from various others; to wretched few, there was a scapegoat to hide crime behind another's identity. None could ever replicate Mistbeard. A King transcended time itself for as long as the actual mask exists, or the imitations, nothing could be forgotten; eternity. This betrayer knew Captain better than any advisory. Two distinct paths taken from a crossroads once shared. Since pre-teens to adulthood.  Sole-survivors. Muffled laughter came from behind that mask, pleased with themselves, before the hooded figure drew a slow methodical grasp on it to pull for identity already known.

The Seeker squinched eyebrows angrily before howling, “We were Skull Brethren! I vouched for you! Three decades between us, growing up beside another, trained! Back to back, front to front! You wanted a Crew like this for sometime! But you fed ruin. WHY! Speak, Sol!” His fanged teeth grit together. Upon name ushered, the Raen revealed himself, discarding Mistbeard’s false mask, tugging off his shadow drapes, revealing an arsenal of a tactical strapped assortment of pistol’s and ammunition enough for atrocious war crimes. Clapping hands together continuously with mockery. “CAPTAIN KURO SOLAIRE.” Following his words like a conductor each word drawn out. “The Infamous Captain Kuro Solaire…. From Harems, magazine covers, large bounties. Denizen’s traversing called you in passerby, The Next Pirate King;  Hells.. The girl I was fond of even wrote about you in her Diary, to her you’re a beacon hero.” Thievery showing-off he held Casta’s journal,  “To her you’re a saint! – Maybe she’s right. Cause’ of you, I’ve saved this realm on three disgusting counts!” Captain’s face showed disbelief, what an ego, talk about something to complain about, snickered to himself letting this condescending praise draw.. The traitor’s tone changed into resentment with a burst. “...But I know who you really are. Over-hyped and rated, you are played out! – I should be the Captain, swimming in recognition, I’m a Pope of the Seas, If anyone’s ascending to King it’s me! I have achieved everything without help, unlike you. Know why? I don’t spare people who cross me, I don’t let my emotion’s get between my fortune. I ERASE them with what comes out from this barrel. You GREW weak on land. Soft as a butterfly. Forgetting who, what we are! We’re PIRATES. Conquerors, everything is subjugated as our rightful claim… Makes me vomit, protecting, compassion, trying to be moral. – You think I was your brother? I couldn’t ever be. Not when I’m a designated shadow, watching you HOIST to the top, you’re a glorified showman. Which piggy-back off me! I’m the creator of where our feet grace, this ship wouldn’t move without me! I won’t be stolen from you ever again!” Shooting bullets into the air with lunacy, demonstrating his dominant Freedom.

Captain never met this side of Sol before was suppressed this his depth? Even unbeknownst to him, two-faced. Long ago an incident occurred where the troubled-Raen had gouged out their own Founding Captain’s eye with a fork, for being commanded. Is this alter-ego the same culprit? This other persona seemed to maliciously come out of nowhere. Was this Garlemald’s influence from being enslaved by them until earning conscription? Nay… This part existed somewhere inside him. Brought to dawn from an event outside Captain’s knowledge. The sun-kissed clad in black stepped daringly forth. “Envy? Huh.” Judgemental amber orbs, infuriating his seething brother-no-more. “Stole from ye? I’ve never been like you, or others upon the original Crew. I couldn’t kill for sport. You relish in making others drown in red. I chose to make others float in pleasure, I gave them my worth, for a small price of a selfish memento to carry with me on high seas. Aye, some, I broke hearts, swindled, hurt but they live now stronger to despise me. I’ve gotten what comes around. You perceive denizen of th’ land feeble? Nay, my mate… They’ve surpassed us! Many can LIVE in Peace! Fine with what they have and got! Can we say that? We struggle stopping after a taste of wealth. Eventually something valuable turns into trash if taken for granted! Accustomed to replacing fer a shiny new thing. Our bond relates t’ this reality. I don’t get it, ye never bothered being Crew’s jester, what changed?” Exhaling bottled lament, showing utter disappointment. The self-proclaimed Pope, snickered and canted his head, “You want to settle down, I’m supposed to follow you? Your ambition is seeing others fulfilled, wow! How generous! Or wait; this for Freedom and Love? Pathetic. Kuro I knew once had unshakable rebellious fire. — For some insane reason. Our Founding Captain chose YOU to be the next successor despite, I'm the senior. He groomed you to replace him. I’ve been discarded as second-rate. When Judas came back, guess what happened? You demoted me back to Shipwright! The reason I put up with being a Jester, is so I can be in the court of the supposed king and usurper him.” Viscous jealousy continued to rattle against the Captain.

Disagreeable shake of his head accompanying a chuckle, “I didn’t have a choice to pick up, after our Captain. If you weren’t lost to the sea and placed into the clutches of Garlemald. Things would’ve been different. Frankly, I’m glad you didn’t inherit this mantle. Cause you disregard all life. From other mercenaries employed, to any semblance in recreating your own Goldbrand with Silverbrand, you mentioned stealing? Ye become polluted by entitlement. – People judged you initially on having any affiliation with the Garleans. Not including your pirate background. I played advocate trusting the side I saw of you, now I’ve painfully learned is fiction. You b’ another insufferable dickless prick. Lobbing blows in the dark, a type who’d sell out his own brother, break up his family.” Spitting on the side with disgust. Striking a nerve from the mercenary, but showing composure quickly. Remembering he held all the power with his firearm. “...Underestimate me, Cap’n. I don’t have a family, I butchered them. You should’ve listened to others, maybe they would’ve stuck around. Where is your Crew now? Ayla? Sivir? Everyone is gone, you’re left to perish alone. What has kindness rewarded you ever? – Nobhead, every-time you visited that orphanage, each Starlight donated your share of hoards to them. I TOOK it back to my trove. All your movements and poor attempts to advance as a person, I rectified them.” Deplorable veracity shown, crueler than death. Stunned by the slimy low, the fathomless spite. The most dangerous enemies to possess are those who've been closest. No resolve to fight anymore. He didn’t react with explosiveness or anger even though, knowing that’s what Sol wanted for that rough-destructive, smash-mouth Captain to come out. “I did make a grave underestimation… What exactly, ye want Mr.Perfection? Still you haven’t broken-even yet, taken enough from me!?” Engulfed by sorrow his throat tugged, how do you combat someone you found dearly to be purely a facade after thirty years! It took only a moment before cherished memories shattered.

He couldn’t understand what this version of foul Sol tried to convince him, become or achieve. To Kuro this was pointless, unbridled envy and unfortunately, his opponent had mentally deleted his resolve. “What I’ve always wanted. – The Successor Crown atop your head.” Sol’s thick Garlean accent gave his demand. “I can tell, you’ve no willpower to fight me. Remember who I am… Try not to hurt yourself, but think, Captain. I KNOW all about you, I’ve followed you everywhere. Saw houses of all your ACTUAL treasures. I could send some mail over to your hearties on the land and they’ll get an unexpected present, that’s surely going to blow them away.” Purest of evil distorted his putrid face, no limit! Existing on lengths, Sol would go to obtain his believed rightful claim. The unholy mark of Scourge gave rise in plain-sight. Captain’s depleted form began straightening, his entire being, resolving aether in fury from a despicable blackmail…  His reason to fight returned. “...Y-You… m-monster!” Previous devil’s encountered in his past and brought their bane couldn’t compare to this level of malice, menace, a brotherhood eaten alive by hatred.

🌊 ♫Gasoline♫ - Reference - Last Chapter 🌊

(Shoutout to my roomie since Sol is his muse, always reliable on brainstorming story ideas together.)

#Gonna do Hat lore next I think #Maybe do some childhood background stories #FFXIV #Creative Writing #Tales of the Goldbrand #FF14 #-Captain Kuro Solaire #Traitor Arc #End of an Era #Envy Sprouts #Scourge vs Pledger #Sol Akami #Silverbrand #Skull Brethern #Going full throttle on this feud