snarlingcoeurl - Tumblr blog

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Beast - Finale

Despite her fervent desire to head back to Ishgard and curl up at the Forgotten Knight with one of those delicious spiked hot teas they favored there, she had a job to do. With more hesitation than she’d be willing to tell anyone about, she moved past the foreboding statues at the entrance, axe still resting on her shoulder, ready to be brought to bare with a simple motion. Armored boots announced her presence to the spacious main hall of the temple, the stone floor, which she noticed was not made of the same material as the exterior of the place, causing her steps to sound like cannon fire with how they echoed.

Her eyes took in the entirety of the place at once. The hall was massive, rivaling that of the very seat of power of the Holy See itself. It yawned like the maw of a slumbering leviathan, stretching high up to the ceiling, pitch black and foreboding, again making her think of the light being consumed by that hungering dark. There were six rows of pews wrought from stone, two sets in the middle, and another set on either side of that at slight mirroring angles, filling the space all the way up to the raised dais near the back of the temple. The walls were carved with various figures and abstracts, instantly reminding Snarl of Vaususte’s entry hall. That wasn’t too surprising; the Elezan had a strange fascination with the macabre, it would only make sense that he’d send her into a place that looked like it birthed the very definition of the word. She noted, idly, that despite the darkness engulfing the place, she had little problem seeing the details of the walls, pews, and the dais itself. Curious. The reason became clear as soon as she let her eyes fall upon the object that she sought.

Raised up several feet from the ground level was a simple platform, also carved from the same stone as the walls, but with no details. It was a solid lump of oddly illuminated blackness, carved to fulfil its purpose as a platform, and nothing else. Upon the raised platform was the dais in question, again a simple carved pillar from the same material, the bottom sanded in a way to look as though it was emerging from a pool of ink. And upon the dais, was yet another simple carving. The idol was nothing complex to look at. It was a crudely fashioned figurine that could just barely be discerned to be some sort of humanoid, or possibly a voidsent. Yet despite how simple the craft was, staring at it drew the Keeper into a deep contemplation, one that should could not for the life of her remember the details of. Instinctively, she knew that this odd figurine, through some magical means she did not understand, was allowing her to see in the dark, simply by being in its presence.

“Quite obvious.” Snarl said to no one, once more mimicking the same tone that Vaususte had used.

The Keeper started forward. She kept her eyes open, her defenses up and ready. Her breathing was steady, but a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her head. The bones in her hand snapped and cracked from flexing tightly around the haft of her axe, her body tense with anticipation of a threat that was not making itself known.

Then, as if waiting for the perfect opportunity, the door slammed shut behind her.

The Keeper whirled, bringing her axe to bare, her lips peeled back and exposing the telltale fangs of her race in a threatening fashion. But nothing was there to threaten.

Laughter, soft and sweet, rolled through her mind.

Her heart jumped so far up her throat that she could practically taste it on her tongue. She whirled back towards the dais, weapon bared and ready to cleave. The figure remained upon the pedestal. The pews were still in the same position as before. The walls were… still incredibly unsettling.

“Fuckin’ wind…” the Keeper muttered, but she remained defensive, keeping her axe gripped in both hands as she continued on.

“Wind, she says! So cruel! So sad!

Wind, says the one who gets OH SO MAD!”

A low growl escaped her lips as the voices emerged from nowhere. Just like with the creature from her crystal. Her eyes flared wide, a fury entering her chest that filled her with an eagerness to strike at something that, once again, could not be seen. “M’ no’ playin’ games, ya bastards! M’ gonna take tha’ weird figure, get m’ gil, and never think abou’ this shitehole again! If yer gonna have issue wit’ tha’, then GET OUT HERE AN’ TAKE IT UP WIT’ ME AXE!”

The last words boomed like a thunderclap, so loud and commanding that it caused dust and debris to fall from the walls and stone seats. The echoes cascaded for a time, booming back and forth for what seemed to be an eternity, until silence once again reigned supreme.

“ME AXE! ME AXE! Oh so scary, so fierce!

We shiver in fear, our courage she’s pierced!”

Frustration and rage began to take over Snarl’s thoughts. This place was getting to her in ways that she had not expected, and she needed an outlet. With a battle cry of a similar caliber as her first shout, she swung her axe around over her head, and slammed it with tremendous force into the stone at her feet. Cracks spidered from the strike, opening wider and wider as the tendrils of the blow stretched further out. The Keeper hefted her axe back up, muttering a series of colorful curses as she forced herself towards the dais.

“Truthful truths, her might is grand!

Saddest truths, her mind is bland.”

“FUCK OFF.” She shouted again, swinging her axe with a casual cleave to smash a pew as she walked. The careless attack shaved a good portion of the stonework away, sending rubble cascading forth a few feet in an arc.

“We see her might, we see her mind.

We see her fears, we see she’s blind.”

“When m’ done here, m’ makin’ a vendetta ta start a fuckin’ crusade against you Godsdamned voidsent.” She ascended the stairs leading up to the dais that held the figure, the key to her completion of this job. And the faster she was done with it, the sooner she’d be able to leave this hellhole behind.

“Will she take it? Will we be done?

She might do it! Then we have fun!”

“Ya wan’ me ta take th’ damn thing?! FINE!” Anger had completely taken control of her, and, true to the goading voices words, she was blind to the danger around her. Her unchecked temper was piloting her actions… was this an effect of the voidsent influence on her? Was she dancing like a puppet on their strings? Or was this really her rage, her fury, that was driving her to push forward and finish her duty?

Her axe was hefted up to her shoulder. And, without a second thought, she thrust her arm out, and grabbed the figure from the pedestal.

The room went pitch black.

The laughter bubbled forth once more, more excited and maniacal than before.

And the voices whispered right in her ears, so close she could swear she could feel their icy breath upon her skin.

“So callously you have wandered and stormed the temple gates,

So foolishly you claim that which carries a mighty weight.

A warrior of great skill and experience you may be,

But many dark thoughts float about, and it fills us with glee!

A fire, so pure, so righteous in its rage,

It burns with fury, bright anger. We shall free it from this cage!

A blessing? A curse? We know it to be so cliche,

But the beast that screams within must be sated this day.

We release it! We unleash it! Let it come to be the star in the show!

Let it wander, forever Lost. Let this Beast be all you now know!”

Pain. Pain! PAIN that Snarl had never even imagined, pain that dwarfed every wound, every battle scar, every mortal injury that she had ever felt, flooded into her. She could feel her skin groaning in protest as bones warped and distorted, elongating and bending, mutating and morphing as an unknown force took hold of her. She could feel her shoulders forcibly hunch, more loud pops and cracks echoing loudly in the empty halls. She could feel her armor snapping from the strain of her torture, her gauntlets unbuckling as her fingers stretched. She could even feel her nails growing at a rapid pace, an unknown and new pain to her, like getting an all over hangnail. An unfamiliar warmth blossomed from her flesh, a softness accompanying it that she could barely keep the mind to pay attention to. She could feel her hair grow at an alarming rate, down to her shoulders, around her face, encompassing it entirely. Her canines elongated, and she bit her tongue hard in the wake of her screams, the coppery taste of blood a familiar sensation that she clung onto. It was one of the few things keeping her sane through the torment.

And, an eternity later, it was over…

The darkness had completely taken over. No more sourceless light illuminated the temple. It was all she could do but curl up in the dark and breathe. It felt as though she could not get enough air into her lungs, as if they doubled in size during the experience. Tears streamed down her face. Yet despite all this, she still clutched the idol in her hand. Was the thing always so small, though? And what happened to her gauntlet? For that matter, what happened to most of her armor?

Those questions were unimportant, for now. The only thing that mattered was how soon could she drift into unconsciousness, so that she didn’t have to keep feeling this agonizing pain.

In the first stroke of good luck she had since she arrived at this void worshipping temple, it came. The sweet dark took her.

And she slept.

-----------

A day later…

“Lord Vaususte! There is a-” “Calm down, boy. I know, I know. She has returned with the item in question, yes?” Anont Vaususte had been anticipating the return of his hired sellsword for the entirety of the day. His anxiety and excitement was so high that he couldn’t even bring himself to eat a single course of his meal that evening. Sleep had evaded him entirely. But now, as he knew she would, his faithful, if expensive, courier had returned.

“W-w-well, y-yes, but, um, it doesn’t seem to b-”

“Then what are you doing stammering here, you fool?! Bring her into the welcoming hall. I shall receive her immediately.” “M-my lord, she… that is to say, he… your guest… is already there.”

Vaususte beamed. “Excellent! Let us meet, posthaste. Bring a bottle of the wine that was gifted to us by Dzamael. That should be an appropriate celebration for such a momentous job completed.”

“Uh-uhm… y-yes, right away, my lord.”

The servant scurried off, relief flashing on his features as he was dismissed to do something other than be around Snarling Coeurl. What had gotten into that child? Well, it did not matter for now. What mattered was him getting his hands on that idol!

The Elezen nobleman sauntered out to his waiting hall, gesturing dramatically with a look that denoted triumph, pride, and a hard fought victory. “My dearest Snarl! How delighted I am to see-”

A clawed hand wrapped around the nobleman’s throat, easily reaching around the entirety of his slender neck. An overwhelming strength slammed the nobleman hard into a nearby wall, the force of which caused a few cracks in the woodwork to form from the point of impact. Sharp nails dug into Vaususte’s delicate, pale skin, and he could feel a frighteningly warm sensation of his own lifeblood spilling out from the punctures. He choked, but no tears formed from the pain. He struggled against his assaulter, kicking at what felt like a Gridanian tree made out of pure muscle. The hand barely even moved, despite his best efforts.

Through a burning haze, the nobleman focused on the face of his attacker. It was… monstrous. A hulking form, furred and lined with rippling muscle that felt as tough as a boulder, towered before him. The color of the fur reminded him of early twilight, dark blues and purples blending together in a hue that, appropriately, reminded him of an impending finality. The face was completely leonine, a pair of ferocious looking fangs, glistening with saliva, had been bared, looking eager to begin rending and tearing into flesh. But what gave him the most pause were those eyes… golden, shimmering, blazing with a fury that reminded him of an all too familiar roaring inferno…

“S… Snarl?!” “Vaususte.” The creature growled, breath like a dragon’s flame licking his face as it spoke in a deep, dark voice that promised pain in spades. “M’ sorry ta disturb ya, mate… bu’ we gotta have some words, eh?” ----------------- @blackgarden-fc

#ffxiv #shadowbringers #stormblood #arealmreborn #rp #ffxiv rp

3 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Beast - Part 2

“Huh. Wonder if pa ever did stuff like this?” She wondered aloud to herself on the approach to the temple. Her chocobo, leant to her by Vaususte, stomped one of its taloned feet in the dirt, kicking a bit of dust up, its feathers bristling in aggitation. Snarl ran her hand up and down its lengthy neck, giving it some reassuring pats as she spoke softly to it. “Easy there, ya jus’ gotta wait out here, ya follow? Go do some grazin’, I’ll be righ’ ou’.” She spoke to the mount as if it had spoke perfect common. The bird squawked in dismay again, and it lurched, kicking up a much larger cloud of dirt, spreading its wings out at the same time in a defensive gesture. The Keeper struggled to keep the mount under control, the frightened chocobo not responding to her words or tugging of its reins.

“Naw… he probably did stuff way worse than ransakin’ a cutlist temple…” she muttered as she hopped off the chocobo. She gave it a stern slap on the rump with a shout of “HYA!”, and the mount bucked, quickly bolting for the nearby trail, likely returning to its stable on instinct. Snarl furrowed her brow at the chocobo’s hasty retreat, concern washing over her features. Her attention brought her about, turning towards the looming building ahead. Hesitantly, she unbuckled her great axe from the magnetic holsters on her back. With little effort, she swung the weight about and placed it on her shoulder, a comforting familiarity as she approached the temple of shadow worship.

The walk was uneventful. Her heavy plated boots were some of the few sounds in the area, aside from the occasional gust of howling wind. The temple was surrounded on both sides by large, ugly looking rock formations, the stone itself a hungering black that looked like it was consuming the very light from all around the area. The building itself appeared to be made, or at least fashioned after, the same material, but polished to have a bit of a glistening sheen to it. That alone made her feel uneasy. But the thing that made her stop in her tracks was what was guarding the entryway.

A pair of statues stood sentinel at either side of the door. Each was humanoid, in the most generous of terms. Their legs were thin and gangly, bent in awkward ways, as though the things own weight was too much for them. Two arms that were far too long and thin stretched up into the sky, and in each hand, the statues each held a pair of absolutely wicked looking curved blades that, despite being made of stone, looked like they would slice just as well as the steel on her shoulder. Pairs of bat-like wings that seemed as though they’d be useless for flying stretched up in a similar fashion to the pair of statues’ arms, and their necks looked like it, too, had been straining to raise up into the sky, as though the weight of its own head was too great a burden. And those heads were the most chilling aspect of the things. Though they both had been looking up towards the sky, Snarl could see the powerful jaws of the monstrosities, opened and screaming, each aligned with ferocious looking fangs that would feel right at home on a weapon rack. Wicked horns curled around its skull, each ending in savage points that would be excellently suited for goring.

“By th’ Twelve… its tha’ smug bastard from m’ crystal…” The memories of that night on the Carteneau Flats flooded back to her. She thought it had been a dream, brought on by her exhaustion, for a time. But seeing those statues triggered the flood of sensations from the harrowing journey, from the conversations with the thing that whispered in her ear, from the hard won battle, as though she had just experienced them. Did that mean that the thing in her crystal was a creature worshiped at this temple? A guardian of sorts? And a final realization twisted her stomach into a tight, unrelenting knot that threatened to topple her. This confirmed what she had feared.

The thing that had been whispering to her, been wanting to take her body for its own maniacal joy rides around Eorzea, and had been, according to its own words, been influencing any who had held the crystal for eras, was a voidsent. A creature manifested from the Darkness itself, who’s purpose in her world was propagation and domination. And she had been carrying one around inside of her head for most of her adult life…

“Shite.”

----------

@blackgarden-fc

#ffxiv rp #ffxiv #shadowbringers #stormblood #short story #rp

3 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Beast - Part 1

This is the first part of a three part story that will help transition Snarl’s story from Stormblood to Shadowbringers. ICly, it is just after Corsa’ir Boon and Katalin Hunter’s wedding ceremony. Snarl excuses herself from the festivities of the reception, telling the gathered crew that she has an important meeting to attend to, and the client made it clear that time was of the essence. Enjoy!

-----------

“I can’t fuckin’ believe I missed th’ weddin’ reception ta spend m’ Godsdamned day sittin’ in yer creepy welcomin’ room, Vaususte.”

Snarling Coeurl, Keeper of the Moon, adopted daughter of a tribe of some of the most notorious Hellsguard sellswords from the last umbral era, who’s teeth had been cut upon the harsh reefs of privateer work for many years, did not have much in the way of diplomatic discussion.

The ‘creepy welcomin’ room’ was indeed creepy. While the interior was a standard in Ishgardian noble houses; ceilings that are far too high, floors that are far too polished and clean, walls that are far too cluttered with a variety of pompous artistic displays. But the details of the place was what set Snarl on edge. Statues of grotesque figures, warped in frozen agony, littered the entry hall of the Vaususte house. Each looked as though it had been petrified in the middle of a grusome murder, faces twisted in horrendous pain and torment. There were less assuming pieces of art, here and there, but the air about them was just… wrong. A pedestal on a far wall held a small, unassuming orb of jet black, crafted from what appeared to be darkened marble. But, the longer Snarl looked at it, the heavier a leaden weight of despair grew in her belly. It was an effort to tear her eyes away from it. Paintings on the walls had similar associated feelings of dread with them, each depicting unique and odd assortments of abstract colors and shapes that left one pondering nothingness for far too long. And somehow, the Elezen lord felt that it was all a means to raise his status in the Holy See.

Nobles. She’d never understand them.

She sat, armored arms folded tightly across her chest, in one of the most lavish and uncomfortable chairs she had ever sat upon. Her tail, agitated as a riled cobra, bobbed up and down in stiff movements, a sign of her clear frustration with the situation. Pointed ears, normally pricked and alert, were lowered, flattened, as though she was ready for a fight. But the worst thing was her eyes. They were narrowed to slits, and a fury blazed behind them that made the flames in the nearby fireplaces seem like dying embers by comparison. One of her fingers tapped against her other arm, impatiently waiting for a response from her host.

Across from her, in a similar chair to her own, sat an opposite to the bruiser in every aspect. Anont Vaususte, a lesser noble of the Holy See of Ishgard, sat poised and proper, as nobles tended to do. His hands were patiently folded across his lap, and his legs were crossed in a manner that denoted a carefree attitude, despite the posture of the rest of him. He didn’t fidget or fuss, he simply sat, watching his guest, eyes the color of looming storm clouds locked onto the Keepers ferocious gaze, and a calm and charming smile rested on his lips.

“Why Miss Sna-”

She cut him off. “I missed two a’ m’ best friends’ hitchin’ party ta be here, Vaususte. Ya better fuckin’ at least do me th’ service a’ callin’ me by th’ proper name, like I asked.”

The noble raised his hands in acquiescence. “You are correct, of course. I apologize, Snarl.”

The Keeper’s tension lessoned, but only by a few degrees. She still looked like she would close the distance and slug the nobleman in a short breath. “Jus’ get on wit’ it, eh?”

“As you wish” he said, and motioned for a servant to bring over a bundled up scroll to the sellsword. She accepted it and began to unfurl it, blazing gaze lingering on the servant in a knife sharp glare for just a moment before she began looking over the document.

It was a map of what appeared to be a temple of one sort or another. They all looked the same to Snarl. She didn’t recognize the area that the map was detailing. In fact, the script that littered the scroll was completely unintelligible. Sweeping and swooping curves and curls that seemed to end in thorned points at random spots on each letter. A few of the notes seemed to trail a bit of ink, as though the letters themselves had bled. “So this is th’ place, then” she asked, not pulling her attention away from the map.

“Indeed. A temple of worship, some hundred malms away from the eyes of civilization.” the noble answered, a bit of pride entering his voice. “It was a… challenge, to get this information.”

Snarl scoffed. “Yeah, I bet…”

“The item I seek,” Anont continued, as though he did not hear the snarky comment, “is in the center of the main hall of worship, on a dais. My scouts report that it is… quite obvious.”

“Lucky me.” she quipped. “So if yer scouts saw and found it to be ‘quite obvious’”, saying the phrase in the exact tone and pace of Vaususte, “why didn’ they grab it for ya then? Seems like tha’ woulda saved ya quite a bit a’ gil.” She knew there had to be a reason she was hired onto this job, especially with such tight time restrictions on it. The noble wouldn’t have paid such an exhorbant fee for her services if there wasn’t some sort of catch on the job.

“They are… superstitious.” Anont responded, contempt slipping its way into his words. “They did not want to risk touching the artifact by virtue of angering some dark, evil spirit that may be haunting it.”

Snarls eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. “Evil spirit? Wha’ sorta evil spirit haunts a place a’ worship? I wouldn’ think tha’ would happen wit’ someplace tha’ would have th’ God’s blessin’.”

“You are correct, Snarl.” the noble’s ever present smile deepened just slightly, storm colored eyes never faltering from the form of the Keeper. “That would be true if they worshipped any of the Twelve there.”

Snarls golden eyes snapped up, brow furrowing.

“The… I suppose the best word would be cult, that tended to this temple worshipped the other end of the spectrum. They worshipped calamity. They worshipped the end.” Anont let the words hang in the air in an impending fashion, before finishing. “They worshipped Darkness itself.”

Snarl, ever the mature one, rolled her eyes contemptuously. “Oh Twelve fuckin’ save me from overly dramatic nobles. “Jus’ tell me where ta go, wha’ ta grab, an’ who ta smash.”

The noble smiled, clapping his hands together in a delighted, pleased fashion. “And that is why you were the first to spring to mind when I needed a sellsword. Come, let us discuss the details.”

The Keeper shook her head with another sigh and eye roll. She hefted her bulky battle axe onto her shoulder as she rose, and gestured in an overly dramatic fashion, the intent clearly to mock, for Vaususte to proceed. “Lead th’ way, boss.”

--------

@blackgarden-fc

#shadowbringers ffxiv stormblood arealmreborn rp shortstory

3 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Absence

- This story takes place in the time that I needed to take a breather from Final Fantasy XIV to take care of some important life stuff. I’ve since returned, and have written a short story detailing Snarl’s time away from the Rocinante. This is also going to be closing out a part of her character arc involving the weirdness that has been happening with her Soul Crystal. Enjoy! -

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

“I wonder if this will be the day…”

Thunder rolled like an ominous cannonade in the distance, foreboding and absolute in its presence. Plumes of heated breath escaped the lips of a battered and exhausted Keeper of the Moon, plated footsteps carrying her deeper towards the horizon, with no real aim of where she wandered. How many moons had come and gone since she started? Many, was the closest estimation she could give. An iron coated hand lifted to grip her shoulder, a sharp, familiar pain blooming hot from behind her heavy indigo gear that she favored. The armor, a second skin to her, had begun to drag her down like a dead weight, along with the bulky mass of her favored battle axe. But still she pressed on, knowing the inevitable loomed behind her. Laughter from nowhere echoed in her mind, the sound repeated so often that it had become nothing but a background noise.

Snarling Coeurl, Daughter of Iron, Blushing Bruiser and Head of Security aboard the Rocinante, stood at the top of a looming hill, overlooking the decimation of the Carteneau Flats. A soft smile played at her lips, bloodied though they were. She wondered if she could still call herself the Head of Security for how long she was gone. Did she even have a home aboard the Rocinante, anymore? Had she been forgotten, discarded? Did someone stronger, more reliable, less susceptible to weakness, take her place? They were probably better off without her, happier that she was…

“N-no… ya fuckin’... bastard…” she growled into the darkness, her plate covered hands clenching into tight fists, so tight that the metal groaned in protest from the strain. She could feel soft trickles of blood running from her palms from the force of her grip. She let out a quick, sharp breath, and nearly toppled over, that dark sensation receding again. The laughter was closer now, mocking and dripping with confidence.

“Ohhh, that is just delightful.”

The voice dripped honey sweet, and was as venomous as a viper’s kiss. Another growl, this one lower, tinted with frustration, escaped her lips. She spat off to the side, blood mixing with her saliva, the globule slapping against the faded landscape of the flats. It wasn’t too much further now, she knew, but she didn’t dare think the thought. Instinctively, her hand moved to her Soul Crystal, resting at her hip in its worn, leather pouch. It blazed a brilliant, campfire glow, and even through the gauntlets around her bloodied hands, she could feel the screaming heat of the thing. It had been this way for days now, and nothing she could do could calm its crimson light. Somehow, she knew what that meant, and had known what it meant for years.

Her heavy steps continued to carry her further into the flats of Carteneau. Eyes of shimmering gold scanned the horizon, catching the glisten of steel here and there from the reflection of the brilliant moon hanging high in the sky. Weapons, armor, magitek pieces, mostly scraps that could not become useful salvage for the free companies, dotted the flats, markers of fallen soldiers of either side. Suddenly, she caught her breath. Images, vivid as the moon above, played in her mind; dying soldiers, cruel victors executing their fallen opponents, bloodcurdling screams of misery, pain and woe… it all played before her as though she were there. She saw them all, faces twisting with the torment of death and torture. It was intense, more intense than any of the others. The Keeper stumbled, falling to her knees, slamming her fist into the stoney earth beneath her. “Ain’t real…” she choked out, between labored breaths. “Illusion. Tricks. Jus’ like th’ others.” She bit her sharpened canine into her lower lip again, drawing more blood from a still healing wound there, likely made by the same action during her journey. She tasted it on her tongue, the scent familiar, triggering new memories to play in her head, ones she knew were real, though not much more pleasant. The shock of the experience snapped her back to the silent reality of the present, however, and she took in another sharp breath.

“Yer no’ gonna win, prick.” she said, knees shaking slightly as she brought herself to her feet again.

“Oho? You still think that?”

“I know it.”

“Careful, dear child. Didn’t you just warn yourself about illusions and tricks? No need to lie to yourself…”

Another curse, salty and sharp, burst from her lips as she continued on. Instinct, or perhaps something else at play, brought her hand to her Soul Crystal once more… the light seemed to glow just a bit brighter, now.

Not much longer.

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

The thunder boomed overhead, droplets of rain accompanying the sound, now. The plains of Carteneau sprawled before her, the site of a battle she had no part of, yet vividly recalled, presenting itself there. She hadn’t planned on coming here, at least at first. The thought had only sprung to mind a few moons ago. There weren’t many people that came to this area anymore, she knew. It had already been picked clean by the vultures, any of the valuable pieces of equipment or scrap from the Battle of Carteneau long gone.

She ached. Her body begged her to stop, to rest, to just let it be over and done with. Or maybe that was the prick in her head that had been slipping those thoughts into her mind once more. Either way, she knew that she couldn’t go on much longer. This would be as good a place as any for what she had in mind. She thought her father would approve, at least.

As if on command, the rough, gravel voice of a man echoed in her ears, harsh in its tone, reprimand roaring as the thunder above did. “You are WEAK, brat”, it said, the sound nearly enough to throw Snarl off of her feet, as if she had been struck across the face with a fist. “How could I have ever thought YOU could carry the stone? YOU, a frail, little kitten, carrying the legacy of the Hellsguard?! You are NOTHING compared to my ancestors. You do not BELONG. YOU DO NOT DESERVE THE AXE UPON YOUR BACK.”

Snarl gasped, eyes going wide with surprise. Her heart raced. She reeled, dizzy from the echoing blast of the voice. Tears welled up in those golden orbs, and she couldn’t focus. All she could do is whimper, whisper, muttering incoherently to herself. Thoughts slammed in her mind like tidal waves against a crumbling bastion. “I should have never given you the stone. You are a disgrace upon my bloodline, and my ancestors weep knowing that such a pathetic thing carries their legacy.” the voice continued, relentless in its assault. Carteneau seemed to be millions of yalms away, now. Snarl couldn’t reign her emotions in. She continued her mutterings, clenching her hands at the sides of her head, the Soul Crystal at her hip blazing with the heat of a miniature sun.

“I should have never held back that first time we fought. I should have saved you the trouble, and ended you where you stood…”

And, with those words, she Keeper’s mind clicked. Her eyes snapped into focus. She was able to stand, once more, the blood from her lips swelling again, the taste sharp on her tongue. Instinct brought her hand to the Soul Crystal pouch at her hip. Metal covered fingers gripped it tightly. The heat was intense. It was agony, as though her hand was sizzling from it, clenching it so hard that she could swear she could feel the stone cracking under her strength. A sudden sensation of panic ran through her mind, and it was not her own.

“Ya fucked up, mate.” she said to herself. “Ol’ Iron Eyes was a lotta things…” she said as she began to tug on the pouch. “But he never... EVER… held back.” The alien panic that did not belong to the warrior sharpened, and with a single swift movement, she removed the pouch from her hip, the fabric tearing at the sudden motion. The Soul Crystal seemed to scream with light, so bright and brilliant in the night that it drowned out the moon above. Snarl could barely look at it without closing her eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing, fool child? Without the crystal, you will expire within minutes. I have seen to it.” the voice said, trying its best to hide the fear within it.

“Better that than lettin’ ya chatter on, eh? M’ gettin’ tired a’ yer fuckin’ voice.”

The panic wasn’t hidden anymore. The presence in her mind made itself completely known, now, and a sharp weight fell on Snarl’s shoulders. A burden that was not at all physical began crushing her, pushing her down, doubling and redoubling in force with each passing moment. She cried in protest, nearly falling to her knees again. But a smile, confident and sure, was on her bloodied lips, now. Her gambit paid off. “Ya showed yer hand, mate. Now we’re playin’ on equal ground.”

And, through the pain of the influence inside of her, despite the force that tried to pull her down into the windswept cliffs of Carteneau’s earth, she threw the crystal as hard as she could, turning it into a small comet of light and heat through the skies. It didn’t fall far, nor did it land particularly hard. But it did not crack, either. The Keepers eyes landed on the Soul Crystal, handed down through her family for generations. Her family’s legacy. The thing that she protected and cherished most. She stared at it, as the blaze grew brighter still, to the point where she could not look anymore. She shielded her eyes with her arm, and the voice that had been playing in her mind for months on end now spoke true from right before her.

“YOU MISERABLE, FLESH-FEEDING WORM. Do you have ANY IDEA what you are giving up?!” The voice boomed, so loud that it drowned out the rolling thunder above. “The POWER, the STRENGTH I could have bestowed upon you?!” It paused for a moment, as though trying to find its words, timing them with the thunderclaps above the battleground. “I have been molding you for YEARS, just as I molded so many warriors before you. Given them rage, taught them to use their blazing passion, unleashed the Inner Beast within them.” The voice softened now, as though saddened. “We could have had everything together. Anything you’ve ever wanted.” Then, the disembodied voice hardened once more, a quiet, but clear anger rolling forth in the words. “But your foolish, mortal pride threw that all away. All of it. You’re even throwing your own life away.”

The light began to die out from the crystal. The sound of something ripping, tearing, as though it was shredding through paper, echoed from the stone’s resting place. Snarl could only stare, mouth agape, as a horrifying form, tall and menacing, began to take shape before her eyes. Wings emerged from the hunched figures back as it straightened itself, just slightly, to loom before the Keeper. Limbs far too long and gangly rolled from a thin torso, lazily gripping a pair of hideously curved blades. The thing’s jaws gaped wide, exposing rows upon rows of blackened, vicious, dagger-like teeth. A pair of absolutely wicked horns curled about the creature’s head, twisting into points that would be quite adept at goring. And its eyes… they burned with the same intensity and color as her soul crystal. The monstrosity dripped with rage.

“And now…” the voidsent said, the same honey sweet tones now far more venomous than before. “I shall show you the error of your ways. You WILL be my vessel, Keeper.” the creature purred, its body tensing, prepared to spring forward to strike. “I shall rend what is left of your aether to shreds. You will be naught but an empty husk. A shell. MY shell.” One clawed foot slammed down into the earth in front of it, sending rippling cracks throughout the stone. “Farewell, Snarling Coeurl. I shall be sure to send… personal greetings to your friends aboard the Rocinante, as soon as I have become acclimated to my new body.”

With wide eyes, the Keeper of the Moon couldn’t help but smile at what was before her now. And like a mad woman, she began to laugh. It rolled from her, pure and good, right from her belly. She stood up, as though she had all the time in the world, shaking her head as the last drops of laughter emptied from her. Her body screamed in protest, but it was a familiar pain, as though she had been fighting for hours on end. It was comforting, in a way. No more screams, no more images, no more annoying voice played in her head. Despite her aches and pains, this was the best she had felt in ages.

Still taking her time, the Keeper reached behind her back, unbuckling that oh so familiar weight from her holster there. The great axe obeyed readily, and the familiar sensation of her favored weapon in her hands sent cascades of rejuvenation through her very soul. This was what she knew. This was who she was. This was a battle she could fight.

“Alrigh’ beautiful…” she taunted, the same tone of poisonous play coloring the words. She spun her axe into a defensive position, and grinned a maniac smile towards the monster before her. “Let’s fuckin’ dance.”

---------

Steel rasped against steel across the plains of Carteneau, a sound that was all too familiar to the decimated battlefield. Sparks flashed as the wicked dual swords of the voidsent creature slammed against the Keeper’s heavy axe, neither relenting in their assaults. Mad laughter bubbled from the hulking voidsent’s maw, eyes of burning orange locked upon the golden gaze of Snarling Coeurl. Its tongue, long and as sharp as the razor teeth that lined its jaw, ran along its lips, savoring the fury of the exchange, quivering in anticipation of its prize.

“Come, child. Give in. Let me in, wholly and completely. I shall show you such wonders.” it purred as its pressed its attack, swinging wide and high relentlessly. It spoke conversationally, as if the effort of brandishing those gargantuan swords was as severe as lifting a cup for a drink. In contradiction to the calm voice, the sheer force of the strikes began to cause the defending Keeper to sink a bit into the earth, rippling cracks of the stone she stood upon spidering out, giving way to the creature’s mad assault.

The bruiser simply grinned in response, parrying each of the voidsent’s attacks, sweat rolling down her brow from the quickly setting fatigue. “Gonna hafta buy me a drink first, love.” Her response dripped with cockiness, and her defenses continued to hold. She watched, studying the creature’s attacks, waiting for an opening. Yet despite her sharp eyes, she could not find the window she sought. Blows rained down on her axe like the rain that fell around her. Her body began to shake from the onslaught, and the voidsent recognized this. It redoubled its efforts, and the attacks came faster and faster, mad desire fueling its swings.

“You cannot win! Give up! I can see the aether bleeding from your very soul, foolish girl. Without the crystal and my influence, you shall buckle and fall… it is merely a matter of time.” More and more strikes fell, and Snarl could not dismiss the voidsent’s claims. Something felt wrong since she tossed the crystal away. Her exhaustion was overwhelming, and her muscles screamed in agony as the strikes continued down. And she realized that this assault would not relent. It would not stop until the rest of her aether had bled from her. It was merely holding her in place with its attack.

So, why not give it what it wanted?

She dipped her weapon, partially from exhaustion, but it was part of her plan. The voidsent saw the opening, and screeched in delight, swinging its weapon hard in the horizontal. The blade screamed as it split the air. Snarl’s defenses were wide open, and she knew it. Hot steel burned, and the splash of her blood mixed with the falling rain at her feet. Her right eye was gashed, and a sheet of red covered her dark, indigo skin. But the follow through from the voidsent was slow. It was savoring the strike, thinking its victim defeated, drinking in the moment. It let loose a sound that could barely be called a laugh. “So it ends.”

At the end of the first word, Snarl surged forward in a burst of speed. The wicked curve of the voidsent’s blade had not returned to a position that would allow it an ample opportunity to defend itself, or even finish the attack. The Keeper was inside of the gangly creature’s reach, and it’s campfire eyes widened with palpable horror in the realization of its mistake. It stumbled back, a clumsy attempt to correct its position, but the warrior was too far inside now. Her uninjured eye went wide, the opening clear before her. She screamed a ferocious battle cry, one that overpowered the thunder overhead, and the screeching protests of the voidsent she assaulted. Her foot slammed into the stone, the sheer force of the step causing the ground to crater just slightly.

Her axe sang in the night, the steel slicing the air, slamming with brutalizing force into the creature’s chest, and not stopping for foolish things like flesh or bone. The Keeper’s muscles roared in fury as her attack followed through, it's dark ichor fountaining forth from the axe wound in its chest. Snarl did not relent. More strikes came after, the creature unable to react to the comparatively small Keeper’s relentless slices. Tears mixed with the sheet of blood on her face as she screamed, blow after blow raining down upon the voidsent’s crumbling form.

With a final cry, the head of her axe buried deep into the chest of the monster before her. Hot breath coalesced into puffs of visible air before her. A croaking sound of protest was all the creature could offer. It lay upon the stone, blazing eyes dimming, staring dumbfounded at the mortal wretch that had felled it. As though it did not believe what was happening, it struggled to raise one of its curved blades, a meager attempt to finish its would be vessel off. And, with a final, barely audible rattle, its head fell to the stone. The fire in its eyes went out, and the blazing glow of the nearby crystal, fallen and forgotten, dimmed with them.

Snarl breathed heavily, axe barely held in her hand, now. The remaining golden eye was locked on the creature before her, unable to remove itself from the grotesque thing’s remains. Minutes passed. Her body quivered and quaked, the rainfall coaxing the sheet of blood from her wounds to stain her armor. She thought she would have fallen over from exhaustion, then and there. But something urged her to move. With effort, she removed her gaze from the voidsent, its body already beginning to dissolve with the falling rain.

Her one good eye left in her head locked upon her soul crystal. The gift from her father. The legacy of her family.

The steps forward were agonizing. She couldn’t bring her axe. All of her strength was poured into walking, holding the weight of her armor and herself up. The slick stone caused her to slip and stumble, though she wondered if that was from the loss of blood, or perhaps her bleeding aether, as the voidsent had said. Indeed, she had felt something that she had not noticed before; an emptiness, rapidly expanding, encompassing her very self. Was this what the thing had been doing all of these years? Slowly eating away at her? Where did the beast even come from? Did it live in the crystal? Or was it attracted to something else? And how much of what it said was fiction?

Those were questions that would have to wait. Mostly they would have to wait to see if she could even get up again after that fight. Aching, battered, broken, the Keeper stood before the dormant crystal at her feet. She couldn’t hold it anymore. She buckled, falling to her knees, her remaining golden eye now locked on the crystal, as she had seen on the voidsent before. Shakingly, she placed her gauntlet upon the familiar form of the legacy of her adopted ancestry.

A small smile crept onto her lips.

A familiar heat, comforting and soothing, ran into her hand.

She fell, refusing to let go of the crystal, her gauntlet gripped about it as an iron vice.

“Good dance…” she mumbled into the ember-colored glow of the stone. Her body curled about itself of its own accord. Rain continued to fall. Thunder rolled overhead.

A familiar warmth comforted her. And she knew that she had done her father proud this day.

#shortstory #ffxiv rp #mateus

6 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Photo

Pictures from The Heist™ The BG is now the owners of a lovely casino! Can you say public RP hot spot!! Details SOON™

Picture Credits: @sleepy-mage Aifread @gunslingermiqo @snarlingcoeurl

27 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

The Rahven and The Coeurl

First Part

11th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

Approaching the chocobo porter at the city’s gate, I paid for the bird as Snarl boarded it first. Reaching down to offer me a helping hand, I took it and embraced the yellow feathers under my butt. As the bird picked up speed, leaving Ul’dah and all its glory behind us. I take a moment to look back and reflect on the events of the night. My only regret is the damage I may have caused Emeline with how I stormed out of the restaurant.

Most of the trip traveling through Thanalan in silence. Small banter between Snarl and I peppering the trip but I was unable to keep up the conversation on my end as my thoughts took over and I wasn’t ready to open up to Snarl yet. The sand fading and turning to solid as we ventured closer to Mor Dhona. Passing the view of the aether warped landscape and reaching the overarching bare branches of the Rathefrost. The sight of the familiar tree causing excitement to reach my face for the first time all night.

Keep reading

9 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Describe your character in 5 GIFs

Tagged By: @katalinhunter

Tagging: @gunslingermiqo @blackmagesol @sleepy-mage

9 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Herding The Sheeps

20th sun of the 1st astral sun.

Finally, we executed the famed heist. After moons of preparation and training, we made our move aboard the Gilded Feather. Divided into four groups, we took the casino vessel in multiple waves, according to plan. Rosette, Snarling Coeurl, A’kaia and I formed the distraction team, as we had trained to do. A’kata lead a group to crack open the vault, Aifread another one to hack into the communication relay and Arik lead a breaching team for when everything was sent in motion. Emeline stayed on the ship with others to coordinate the operation from a distance. Before the heist started, my team and I were planted on the ship, posing as patrons, ready to start the party. We were to round up people and keep them hostage once Arik would make his entry.

As expected, the pleasure ship was crawling with people: staff, guards and patrons. After a quick scan of the main floor’s setup, I explained the simple plan of gathering everyone in a single section. Since the gambling section was the most isolated and easy to control, I established that it would be the pen, only thing left was to herd the sheeps. Starting with the lounge section, we got in action. Rosette spoke to a guard, sitting on a sofa with a tired and bored look on his face. It seemed as if he did not want to move, but did accept a drink from her, in which she subtly disolves a sleeping pill. A few seconds later, the guard drifted away. A’kaia and Snarling Coeurl went to a second guard, a female roegadyn twice their size. She resisted for a while, stubborn like a mule, but the duo succeeded in making her believe some patron in the corner had something suspicious on him. The guard escorted the patron to a closed room, dispatching two subjects at once from the main floor. Lastly, I approached a lone man in a well tailored suit, probably three times my age. He said he was the proprietor of some goldsmithing company, I do not remember the name as I was only half listening to his mumbling. The man was quite easily seduced and agreed to show me how he played cards “like a winner”, as he said it, and so I accompanied him to the gambling tables. Sweeping our way to what I called the pen, Rosette caught the attention of the last guard, standing close to the entrance, by picking something up from the fountain quite obviously. He did not lose time to leap forward, catching up with her to conduct his little interrogation. A’kaia and Rosette played with him a bit, while I stood with my new elderly friend who got a bit too touchy for my comfort, but I had to play the part till the breaching team could bust through the front door. Moments later, we were ready to move into phase two.

Arik finally entered the ship, followed by his group. It was time to change the game. I lost no time to announce that the patrons, staff and guards inside my pen were now hostages. It is not like I am used to take hostages, so I listed a few ground: sit down and shut up. Simple enough to follow, is it not? Also I did not state it as politely, I may have swore a few times and spoke quite loud. Anyways, the fear in their face told me the message had passed correctly. Or so I thought. Out of nowhere, this kid sprung out with a knife, throwing himself on Rosette to harm her. Snarling hit the knife off his hand and made sure that he remembered the rules this time. There were a few questions and complaints here and there, but I did expect my herd to have a few stray sheeps anyways. Then another one broke my rules, one of the guard trying to play the hero by taking out some baton he must have had on him. Rosette and Snarling both caught him before he could try anything, but my patience was already running low. I offer them safety, for them to see another day doing whatever their idiot faces do, but they rebel and try overthrow me. Ungrateful sheeps, can’t you see I am the wolf in a fox disguise? Simple rules follow simple consequences: I ordered Snarling Coeurl to cut a finger off his hand. Of course, the guard did not collaborate, the miqo'te ended up knocking him out with the pummel of her axe.

The rest of them stood relatively put, terrorized, crying or shaking. They will get over it. As the sheeps did their thing, I dispatched Rosette and Snarling to aid Arik in his push. Handling hostages is a piece of cake afterall. After a few more minutes, communication between the teams made it clear: the ship was ours. Mission accomplished.

@snarlingcoeurl

@rosettevaleria

@sleepy-mage

13 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Recruitment Has Opened

Please visit our website for further details!

https://www.blackgardencompany.com/recruitment

17 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Photo

A commission set done for @rosettevaleria!

featuring @oroete @healeremeline and Arik!

35 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

The Misleading Squawk

In the final bit of preparation for our heist a small detachment of our company ventured to a recently fought battle. Utilizing my smaller vessel, the Ducallion, we made our way to the borders of the Garleans expansion in Gyr Abania. A recent battle had taken place on several fronts. It appeared to be mostly a probing force of Garleans. Still, the treasure trove of salvage would offer us what we needed.

Setting down it was quickly apparent that this conflict was not one sided. Alliance and Garlean laid in shared piles. Each side had given as much as they had got. Most of the wounded seemed to have expired or removed. Stepping off the gangplank our sense were overwhelmed with the smells of burning oil and charred flesh. There was a group of what appeared to be civilian corpses lying in a ring. What we’d come to find is that in their haste to evacuate the Garleans had rigged bodies with mines. I’m certain the civilians weren’t the targets but in war weapons seldom know the difference.

As we continued our investigation we came across a wounded Alliance soldier. On death’s door he cried out for what I assume was his lover. The only words he seemed to speak were ‘Amelia’. Sarnai, our resident Dotharl, seemed to be mistaken for the man’s lover. If there were ever a sign from the twelve that his man were to live it was shown through Corsair. Cor is many things, but a healer is not one I would consider. While the man does have some understanding of the magics, his knowledge is limited. Whether through divine intervention of shear luck he conjured a spell strong enough to stabilize the man. We were able to get him on to our ship and patch him up. I’ve transferred him to our medbay on the Rocinante until he can fully recover.

The rest of the party came across a turned over group transport for the Garleans. It became obvious that there was something moving within. We could hear a rapid metal on metal tapping from the inside. Snarling Courel managed to pry open the hatch and offer escape. What appeared before us were four Garlean soldiers. Most were just grunts save what I can only assume was the driver of the vehicle. They did not initially appear hostile. Before any of us had a chance to speak Aifread thought to send a message. Slicing two of their throats sent them into a frenzied fear. One took a grenade and tried to take us with him while the driver drew a pistol and took shots at Snarls. The warrior seemed to stop the worst of it. The rest were knocked back from the concussive blasts but ultimately no worse for the wear.

Realizing that we’d have to venture further on we made our way toward a downed aerial transport. As we crossed a narrow bridge one of the automatons came alive. Standing in defiance to our approach it began to spool up its weaponized twin drills. It wouldn’t last long. The combined fire of the party took it down with ease. Axes hued, explosives were slung and fired. In and instant each member aided in dismembering or melting the creation to slag. Even I am in awe at times of what fury the members of this company can bring.

Stepping over the heaps of scrap we made it to our target. For all the issues we have with our enemies none can deny the resilience of their creations. Even being shot down and wrecked these craft retain most their shape. I’ve always considered the possibility of salvaging one but likely that would take extensive resources and manufacture of new ones. Likely theft would be the more efficient solution. We were here for something specific. Climbing through the escape hatch I made my way to the engine room. Navigating through wire and tubes I felt around for our prize. Finding the box I set about quickly removing the ships transponder. With that we could signal the Casino ship that we were a distressed military vessel in need of aid. The final piece was had and we would be ready. Taking a moment longer I searched for one other item of note. I’ll revisit that one later. Escaping from the vessel we returned to our shuttle to head home.

@blackmagesol

@healeremeline

@snarlingcoeurl

@blackgarden-fc

12 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Journal Entry

16th Sun of the First Astral Moon

So the Captain set up another training exercise. This time dressing two of the departments, the Aetherials and Shadows, up like Garleans. We chose a simple gully with high surrounding terrain for the exercise, just out the city. So instead of training dummies or tactics…we were faced with our fellow crew, toting massive long ranger paint guns. Yes…guns that shoot little orbs filled with paint….or threw balloons at us. These balloons were also filled with paint.

Suffice to say I ended the event covered in bruises and paint. It was a rough start, but we pulled it together with Snarls and Ashe leading the way. I may have gotten a bit sulky after the third or fourth time my colleagues and friends gunned me down. I believe many, including Mafrea, took delight in my torment. Saphy did an amazing job! I am so excited to see her with the crew more and more. I think she will do well here. Katalin kept me safe and sane…even when a ‘dead person’. I might have drawn on Snarls’ backside as she carried me as I portrayed a fallen ally. Arik stood there with a clipboard, grading us on our performance.

Today I am feeling much better and I will get my vengeance somehow.

In other avenues, I am having a nice time getting to know Jun. We have had tea, talked a bit. We are planning some friend outings. I have also taken on Cosa’ir as a student in attempts to show him the roots of Conjury. I have not had the best luck with students. I hope he and Kai work out.

But there is still this lingering emptiness that will not depart. In the quiet moments, I am left to my own thoughts and I do not like them. It is worst late at night. Falling asleep alone in my dark quarters has started to wear on me.

I just need to throw myself into something and leave things behind me. There has been no word, no hope. And I feel like a fool every time I think about those things.

@gunslingermiqo @sleepy-mage @theboondogglepub @oroete @saphyra-tsuki @ashebraum @snarlingcoeurl @katalinhunter

7 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 6 years ago

Text

Wasteland Treasures

16th sun of the 1st astral moon

This evening, Captain A'kata lead us out on the battlefield of Gyr Abania, where war had raged between Garlemald and the City-states. The captain, Aifread, Corsa'ir, Sarnai, Snarling Coeurl and I went on searching for some sort of code, one that would be given out to identify the Rocinante as a confirmed garlean vessel. We climbed aboard the Ducallion, A'kata’s personal and smaller ship, and headed on the battlefield.

It was a massacre, more than a battlefield. There was no battle, only wreckage, ruins and death. We went to work in no time, scattering to search for valuable material to scavenge for use or gils. I went to what A'kata called a troop transport, blocking an opening through the immense walls that surrounds The Fringes. Since I nothing of salvaging parts and technological stuff, it appeared to be a relatively good spot to start digging. The thing seemed in relatively good condition, other that it had been flipped over on the flank. Upon approaching it, I could hear a light metallic tapping. At this point, it was not clear if the tapping was something mechanical or living, so I tapped the plating myself, getting frantic noises in return. Uncertain, I stepped back, calling on the captain. I was soon joined by Aifread and Snarling Coeurl to investigate. The transport had a hatch, but it was blocked by debris, which Snarling removed by hand till we could reach the hatch. As it opened men in garlean uniform fell out, escaping their mortal trap. A'kata joined us, witnessing the imperial survivors. One of them looked more decorated than the others, displaying a certain rank, which made the discovery interesting. It all went so fast before we lost our prize, though, as Aifread executed the two other imperials. In probably what was a desperate attempt of keeping his dignity, the remaining imperial dropped a grenade to end his life, trying to drag us down with him. Snarling endured the impact with little damage, I had just enough time to shield myself to minimize it, but the captain and Aifread got it slightly worst. Being the only one capable of using restorative aether on site, I could heal A'kata enough to stabilize her wounds to press on. If the transport had been in good condition before, what was left of it now was useless.

We left the wreckage to join Sarnai, whom, with Corsa'ir, had found a survivor. The elezen man looked in shock, muttering something about a certain Amelia. They decided to aid him, putting him inside the ship for his safety for now. Pressing on, we reached the bridge that connects to the Striped Hills, according to the map, allowing passage over a vastly deep canyon. When I heard an alarm and the word intruder, I took a defensive position along with the rest of the party. Some sort of huge drone was at the bridges end to intercept the expedition. I could not say on which side of the war it was, but it took us for a threat nonetheless. Our team’s experience and power was demonstrated turning to scrap metal swiftly, allowing us passage.

Following the captain, keeping an eye out for other unexpected dangers, we made our way around the wasteland till she came to a stop. In front of us slept the carcass of a crashed garlean ship, smoke still escaping from it. It looked like a wreck to me, A'kata looked at it like it was a diamond mine. It was then that I realized how useless I would be for the upcoming part, so before I could break anything I touched, I walked back to the Ducallion with Snarling, waiting in stand-by for something to be obliterated.

@snarlingcoeurl

@gunslingermiqo

@theboondogglepub

13 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 7 years ago

Text

Journal Entry

8th Sun of the First Astral Moon

I finally have remembered to make a note of the Medical meetings hosted in the bay last week. The gathering of extremely talented medics and healers consisted of Jun, A’kaia, and Katalin. Snarls, our Head of Security, was on hand to listen in on our protocol.

It was a good gathering. We discussed the coming changes on the ship, new protocols and how we as medics can work is helping the ship find success. Jun even is researching an interesting way to expand the use of ‘Ki’ in healing. We will be meeting to work on better understanding anatomy later this week.

Then to end the week was the Vanguard meeting. A new title for those on the ship that serve more marshal work. Though Lucien was to step into the role of First Sword, it never happened and was the announcement of his leaving. The Captian instead took his place with Arik, Snarls, and Aifread at her side. They spoke of their wishes to unite the crew, find purpose and learn to work better together.

It is a future I look forward to.

Then the beginning of the week began with practice drills to train for the mission at hand. It was interesting and a little exciting to watch our people work with such precision.

@katalinhunter @sleepy-mage @gunslingermiqo @snarlingcoeurl

7 notes · View notes

snarlingcoeurl · 7 years ago

Text

Peace of Mind (Part 2)

28th sun of the 6th umbral moon.

Considering the information Kino confirmed, I took a small party with me to locate the house of James Baron, the necromancer. After searching and asking around, I was informed that the dark mage lived as a hermit in an isolated swamp, south of the fringes. Typical, it made sense to my ears so I decided to give it a shot, followed by C'reiyah, Jun and Snarling Coeurl.

Four years ago, my ex-husband introduced me to Baron for the first time. Now that I think back, he may have wanted me to follow him in his dark arts. I am glad I did not fall for it, what nasty magick. The man had raised a small bird back to life in demonstration. Easily impressed, I was speechless, but unaware of the profanity. Such a small creature must have been small practice to him since I soon knew he could raise a dead manto his feet. That is why when I learned about my ex-husband’s recent activities, I began to suspect that he brought him back from beyond the veil. Surely the meteor could not have missed him.

The small party and I arrived at the cave opening that would lead us to the marshes. I felt rather confident with Snarling, for extra protection, Jun, because he owed me a favor and his healing would come in handy, and my lover by my side. Stepping in the darkness, we were soon bathed in a purple hue, radiating from crystal formations on the cave’s ceiling. Following a small stream, and the smell of decaying plant matter, we stumbled upon a fish, struggling out of water. The sounds of wet flops echoed through the cave as Jun and Snarling approached the animal. It was clear on their faces that something was wrong, before Jun declared that the fish was technically supposed to be dead. I say technically because of how it looked : its scales were rotten, eyes were missing and large wounds covered its body from tail to head. I figured it was a good moment to tell the party we were dealing witb a necromancer and this fish would most likely be one of his creations or failed experiment. We decided wiser to walk around it, rather than interacting with it further, and make our way to the end of the cave.

Back outside, the scent of decay became overwhelming as we found ourselves before the swamp. Dead trees, dense fog and murky dark waters were all we could see. The thick white veil prevented us from seeing further than a few yalms, so we proceeded with cautious. Snarling Coeurl took the first steps and we followed till we found wooden planks on the soft swamp grounds. A first bridge, one that would take us across water to the next patch of vegetation. As preventive as we could, when we reached the other side, Snarling’s foot went right through the decayed planks. The weight shift catapulted me over to luckily land on a patch of moss, breaking the fall and keeping me mostly dry. Snarling broke free and C'reiyah jumped down to help me back on the bridge. It was kind of heroic, in a way. She is so cute. Anyways, we pressed on the next section of the wooden bridge, across more dark and stagnant water.

Yet again, the weight of Snarling’s armour played against her as she pierced right through the bridge once more. This time, in the middle of the bridge, both her legs went in, right to her chest. The miqo'te struggled as Rei and Jun attempted to help. It did not take long for Snarling to begin panicking and for Jun to show equal worry. This is when I looked down between the cracks, only to see movement under water. Three pairs of arms broke from the bridge to cover the stuck woman. Six milky white arms with wrinkly, bloated skin pulled her down, breaking her free, but only to be kept underwater. To get a better view of the scene in order to act, I cast a simple fire spell above use, illuminating the dark swamp. Snarling was kept beneathe by three humanoid figures. Naked, the three of them had decaying white skin white grey blind eyes. Obviously, they had been dead at some point, only to be risen to act as sentries for the necromancer. Jun began to protect us with arcane shields and C'reiyah used her magick to clear part of the bridge, allowing a better access, and jumped in. The submerged miqo'te managed to free her axe and in a violent spin, broke free and destroyed one of the drowned corpse. They were not done with their prey though, one of them threw himself around Snarling’s legs to pin her and the other pulled out a nasty rusted cleaver. Luckily, Jun’s shield stopped the blow, the cleaver slashing at an invisible wall. I took this opportunity to cast a fire spell at the first corpse, breaking the miqo'te free of his hold, and Reiyah impaled him with her rapier. The borrowed time caught up to him as he instantly decomposed in the water. With a powerful blow, the last one was obliterated by Snarling’s axe. Catching our breath, we turned to the glimpse of a light. Piercing through the fog, a small lantern could be seen behind a window : the necromancer’s house was in sight.

If we was not aware of our presence when we set foot in the marsh, surely he would have heard the commotion on the bridge. We pressed on to the house, stopping in front of the door. The house was delapidated : broken windows, cobwebs, moss on the walls, cracked wood, if it was not for the lantern, anyone could guess the place was abandonned. I expected no less from a man of his nature. Not wanting to lose any more time, I placed my hand in the handle, turned and pushed the door open. Hermits never lock their door. Warm air gusted out the threshold, carrying a nauseous breeze. Snarling entered first, axe in hand, followed by Jun, C'reiyah and me. The sight to behold was disgusting to say the least : parchments and dusty tomes on the floor, suspended skins, rotting food on the table and a dirty bed I would not poke with a five yalm pole. Remainings of experiments were laying on the floor, along with blood stains and other unidentified substances. In the silence of night, we quickly realized that a lantern was lit, but the house was empty. Considering everything we could set our eyes one, the necromancer had lived here at some point and judging by the rotting food, we were just a few days late. Not everyone appreciates me in the magick community, asking around for Baron’s location most likely reached his ears before I could make my move. Today or not, I will find him to get my answers. Before making our way out, I made a pile with all the vile papers and material to set it aflame. Soon, the whole house was consummed by fire as we stood outside to watch it burn. This expedition was over, but the hunt would go on.

Taking Rei’s hand, we walked back in our steps with extra caution on the bridges. The swamp had calmed down, we encountered no obstacles. The party agreed that the next course of action - was taking a bath.

@creiyah

@snarlingcoeurl

12 notes · View notes