#Allagan Forgs

[spotofmummery]

Allagan Frogs in Planet Crafter

((Not really, but they do have the right color scheme! Blue tongue bonus!))

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

6 When it comes to combat or other physical activities, does your OC favour heavy armour? Or do they prefer something lighter which facilitates greater mobility at the expense of protection? Or do they have another priority entirely, such as clothing which assists them in channelling aether or magical abilities?

Riven: Dancing requires lighter armor, but if she's also summoning at the same time, she needs to sacrifice armor for aether channeling. This means that her summon needs to keep an eye on her--or she has some defense from one of the others. If she's summoning or healing, she invests heavily in clothing that's reinforced by armor spells or Allagan weave that helps protect and amplify her magic.

Augustine: Armor that lets him take *all the hits*, in some cases also made lighter with magic to allow him to move quickly. As Machinist he settles for leathers and cloth that are heavily armor-spelled reinforced.

Mathye: Like Riven, invests heavily in clothing reinforced by armor spells/Allagan weave/spellcaster cloth. Much of his gear is blessed and sanctified.

Reinhardt: Drachen mail. If he has to, he can wear non-drachen armor, but it has to be freshly forged with a dragonscale/dragonblood tincture to allow him to channel his aether.

Sebastian: Like Riven and Mathye, spellcaster clothing designed for channeling/reinforced with armor spells. As a gunbreaker he wears light to heavy leathers, which can also be reinforced.

[mealvaan]

Surrogate

The Antelope encampment was ripe for the Rising. Overhead hung pennants of sunsetting leaves, vermillion cloth and bird feeders, alight with chirping sparrows whose beaks warred for the banquet. The air was thick with barbecue smoke, for a spell — A'khadia Nunh cut through it, a crisp, morning wind dogging his every step as he danced between tents.

"Sparse crowd," A'tari commented sarcastically, deftly dodging a beeline of playing children.

"The shoreline celebrations're for the Limsans. Ours cover 'bout everyone else," A'khadia said. "And no fireworks. Animals dunno the diff'rence between a memorial an' a war."

Heat rose to A'tari's cheeks. She'd helped put together that very fleet, yet she hadn't considered how polarising the sounds of gunfire might be. This went graciously unnoticed by her twin however, as he came to a stop outside the main tent.

"Council's in 'ere now." It was a grand marquee with a sylvan-patterned canopy that, in its colourful intricacy, reminded A'tari of the Turali market.

An epoch ago, the "council" of remaining Windrunners picked a large tree to shelter under through Llymlaen's rancour. It was not unlike the vivid canvas before her, a plume of autumnal leaves, dying only in early August. They had little to discuss save their grief and where to take it. A'khadia was quiet. A'tari tried to lighten the mood. In retrospect, what the hells was wrong with her?

"You alright, Tari?" Of course A'khadia noticed. A'tari put on a smile and shook her head, then nodded once she realised the question.

"Yeah! Yeah, let's go in."

"Mm'kay."

They pushed through the curtain to find a raucous debate. The tent wasn't busy with people, no — only four bickered at the table with plenty room between them for miqa'bobs and empty glasses. But at one of four spokes was A'lizha, who eagerly abused her natural affinity with the winds to amplify her voice over everyone else's. The others at the table seemed well used to it at this point, pressing their points regardless.

More powerful yet A'tari's ability to silence a room in her presence. She felt the cold snap of her legacy every time, even with her tribe. Eight eyes — ten, if she counted A'khadia's behind her — all transfixed by her.

"A'tari!" A'lizha broke the silence, her shock cracking into a great white shard of a grin. How often A'lizha smiled now compared to their youth. "I di'nt think you'd come! C'mere, take a seat."

"Yes, please. We've much to apprise you of," said A'chisisi, an enigmatic figure mostly unfamiliar to A'tari. Yet he seemed to have gained everyone else's approval, sporting a shiny new title and laurels.

"Ain't seen you in a while, star-saver," chimed A'sohal. She regarded the Warrior of Light with the same wonder one would look upon an Allagan monument, foreign and ephemeral despite how long they'd known each other.

"Come, have some tea." A'dusa patted the cushion beside her. The huntress had at least four epochs on the rest of them. While A'khadia saw her as his own grandmother, A'tari only saw her once in a blue moon. The distance between them felt like yet another wedge between her and her own brother.

The two sat with the others. Every eye was on A'tari; she wanted desperately to dissolve into a cloud and retreat to her tent. Of course, A'khadia was oh-so helpful and stayed blissfully silent. No one ever expected him to dispense wisdoms.

"We've been attempting to forge alliance with our O'ghomorran neighbours over the past two moons." Oh, great! Right to business. Thanks, A'chihisi. "For example, we invited them to this sennend's festivities but they declined. What would you recommend we try next?"

A'tari glanced towards A'khadia. He bounced it back with a shrug. The hells should I know? she thought. The Scions made all the big decisions, they just showed her where to work her magic. All she could really do was inhale deep and do her best impression of their little diplomat.

"The kobolds have been preoccupied rebuilding their community after their plights with tempering. If you visit them to offer aid and alms, they would be amenable to further parlay." Yeah, that sounds about right. All the buzzwords she'd known and loved, wrapped up nicely in something vaguely resembling Alphinaud's advice. A'khadia quirked his brow at her.

"Right. They probably don't have time or people to spare to celebrate right now. I'll review our inventory and figure out what we can send..." Cogs were already whirring, grand. But just as she cut off one head, another grew.

"Whenever we travel on the Shroud fringes, we're dogged by demons. You got an easy way you deal with that? Heard there was a big hullabaloo over in the Near East with 'em."

As A'sohal spoke, a dark shadow cast over her brow. A'tari couldn't help but push through the crowd of awful voidsent that'd threatened her life over the epoch, and found the visages cowering Farfarello and once-hopeless Zero insistent in her mind's eye. Still, these malicious people were plaguing her tribe...

"They come in droves, but they're weak on their own," A'tari said, trying to put herself in the mind of Y'shtola. "Prepare spells and artillery that can hit multiple of them at once. Keep a distance so they don't overwhelm you." A'sohal let out an appreciative 'ahaaa', and wrote something down on her wrist.

"Oh, earlier we were tryin' to dye somm've the pennants with ochu leaves, but they came out more brown than green. How d'you get it all bright-like?"

Finally, A'khadia spoke up with a frown. "A'lizha, c'mon. If Tari's givin' you her time, you should use it for important bits, not arts n' crafts."

A'lizha flustered, looking between him and A'tari apologetically. "Sorry, yer'right..."

"You want to leave the dye on for at least two suns and keep it out of the sun," A'tari said.

"Th... Thanks, A'tari." A'lizha was so formal. She used to drop the prefix with her. "We won't keep you any more during the festival, but I think A'dusa had a request of you."

All eyes fell to A'dusa, who had been quietly listening the whole while over a steaming cup.

"Could you give a speech before the feast tonight, dear?" Her crow's feet twinkled at A'tari. A'khadia saw the look on A'tari's face, and moved to rest his hand on A'dusa's arm in warning, but A'tari couldn't disappoint her... Why did everyone want her to give a speech? Why did everyone think she had anything to say?

"S-Sure! Speeches? That's like, a regular Windsday for me. I'm gonna go make some faces in the mirror. You know, for prep."

Before anyone could protest, A'tari was gone in a puff of smoke. The tent was finally, truly wordless. All looks gravitated towards A'khadia. He broke the silence with a sigh.

"Y'overwhelmed her. I'll go find her."

"Di'nt mean to, Khady." A'lizha's ears pressed towards the crown of her head. A'chisisi put his arm over her shoulder.

"It's fine. You can't blame yourself for wanting to take the opportunity to speak with her," he reassured her.

"Send her my apologies, too." A'dusa's hand brushed over A'khadia's knuckles. "A'sohal can give the speech. I just thought..."

"It was a good idea, A'dusa. She's just been through a fair lot an' needs some time. Gimme a bit to speak with her, 'aight?"

The council nodded. With little fanfare, A'khadia got up and made for the entrance.

"Hey now, hold your 'bos. A'khadia, you're meant to be part a' this meeting too, y'know."

"What're you guys chattin' about, then?"

"Music for tonight."

"Pass. Lizha's gonna win that argument over our dead bodies."

"Because I'm making good points!" said A'lizha with at least a couple new decibels under her belt. A'khadia smirked light and parted the curtain, the Windrunners' din behind him now a distant echo.

[eorzeanflowers]

The Archeologist's Journey

Oh... Where to begin. Ah, well. I guess the beginning...

Created as a Allagan Weapon, something hidden in plain sight. Something that couldn't die.. Well, not outright. He was a second generation model, of which there were seven of us. He wasn't the Archeologist yet, he was much to young and childish! I don't fault him for being like that. He hadn't lived more than the sheltered life the scientists gave him.

The Soldier always scoffed at the young in's. He was the last first generation model, one that the scientists keep trying to fix. The war with Merycidia was in full swing, and all of the espionage models were about to be deployed... At least I think we were? He got shoved into a storage cache by the Soldier. The Soldier said he'd be back with the others... Well... They never did show up.

I guess the cache got forgotten, since no one found the first me. No scientist, not a single one of my siblings. I pieced together why, later. The Dalamud project had gone live, and destroyed the empire. Not necessarily a bad thing, but... Well, its not my place to judge.

He restored power to the door after months of moping and using up the supplies. The yellow haze that was the sky that greeted me was unexpected. Azys Lla was fully detached... He got so dizzy looking at the clouds that he, well, fell off.

And that was my first death.

Falling was exhilarating. The crunch of the ground... Not so much. I woke up minutes, hours, days... I'm still not sure. The self I became after was strong, righteous. So he went searching for civilization. He found an old army storehouse, and gathered a set of armor and a blade.

He decided to act on the silly ideas my siblings and I had promised each other after we were done fighting. I was... to become an Archeologist. Bit silly now, but... a name is a name. My second self figured he needed some sort of a name for when he found people.

He wandered the land, protecting those in need, helping others with their problems. He was a remnant of the old Allag to the villages I encountered, but a welcome sight. His prowess with the blade saved many a people. But not every monster can be bested alone.

And that was my second death.

The self I became after, well, she was cautious. She turned to the summoner's art, something easier to disguise. She became a sort of recluse, living alone for a very long time... So long, that astral era passed her by with nary a hint of her involvement.

The Age of Endless Frost brought her out of hiding. She made her way to settlements to assist in keeping themselves warm. She, while cautious, still had a warm and giving heart that hadn't frozen over in her solitude.

She was right to be cautious however. There was a faction that opposed her efforts to be a light to everyone regardless of allegiance. They sabotaged themselves to get her back and stabbed her in the back. She didn't even register the pain, that is how surgical this assassination was.

And that was my third death.

Waking up in a hastily dug grave, my fourth self was angry. She broke free of her prison and went to the nearby settlements. With her knowledge and charisma, she bent them to her ear. Forging herself new armor and a massive blade, she went to become the darkest of my selves. I understand her actions... But I wish they hadn't come to be.

She went and conquered those that had murdered her. Then she conquered their allies. Her bloodlust and anger still not sated, she conquered the entire continent. Ruling with an iron fist and a deep anger, my fourth self became a tyrant.

Thankfully, her rule was short lived. Magick was created, and the fledgling nations of Amdapor and Mhach defeated her, destroying her with their destructive magicks.

And that was my fourth death.

My fifth self regretted the actions of her predecessor. She vowed to never directly influence history as my fourth self did. She knew that her immense knowledge and aether stores would make for another tyrant in the Age of the Magi. So she settled herself into an apprentice position to who would become a great archmage of Mhach.

A bit of a prankster, this self was a joy to be. Freely sharing her knowledge to those that asked, she was a delight to all who knew her. That did not stop her for fighting for her new homeland, but she did so with a great sadness in her soul. She accidentally let slip how Allag summoned voidsent to the wrong person and Mhach started down a dark path.

She thought nothing of it for years, her master becoming a the greatest voidmage of her generation. The War of the Magi that started, sat as a vile taste in her mouth. She worked with her master, following orders, but always showing mercy when she could. She was reprimanded many a time, but that did not stop my idealistic self.

A grand summoning occurred, and she was imprisoned alongside her master. When the flooding began, my fifth self and her master forged the Void Ark, a place of refuge. Unfortunately, the voidsent queen broke her bonds and she sacrificed that life with her master and all the other voidmages to keep her sealed.

And that was my fifth death.

Upon my next self awakening, she teleported back to the world below, leaving the sad memories of Mhach behind with that ship. She became a wanderer, an explorer. She became very worthy of the Archeologist name. Far more than I have been doing. But I feel the help I have done for people is worth just a little bit more... Just a little bit.

My sixth self's life was not very grand. But it was full. She lived solely in the past, exploring old ruins, and gathering like minded souls. She was very beloved for the centuries she keep popping up in. Her end was quiet. On an exploratory dig in the wilds of Othard, a cave in crashed around her as her allies watched in horror. A rock split her head open and she was laid to rest under many fulms of rubble.

And that was my sixth death.

That brings us to me! I'm a bit old now, been this face for the longest of any of my lives. I chose to live in the here and now, not bound by anything my past selves did. Well, I guess you could say I'm just continuing my previous self's lust for adventure. But I am going about it in a different manner. She was very solitary, gathering small groups of dedicated allies.

I just enjoy meeting new people and going on grand adventures with them. I know I can't stay long... Being centuries old does make things a little bit difficult when you barely age, even among Viera standards. But I've met so many interesting souls, and loved more. This realm is full of interesting people and I want to meet as many as I can! I do meddle in current affairs a bit more than before now. I can't help it! I want to keep people safe as best as I can.

For this world is a beautiful place, and I won't rest as long as I can keep protecting it and its people. After this many centuries of living, its the best I can do.

[voidsentprinces]

The tragedy of Hermes, the man who destroy his own world three times. The first time was accidental at the beginning at least, he created Meteion and sent her sisters to the stars to seek the answer to life in hopes of finding something better than what Amaurot had provided. But in return he found despair and that there was no hope beyond this world. After hearing her report, he decided to test if even this star was worthy of existing by pitting Meteion's despair again Amaurot's hope. The second time also began as an accident, he was eventually reborn as Amon, who was raised as a great mage and performer in the pinnacle of mortal empires, the Allagan Empire. But it was already corroding by the time of his birth, seeing its sunset. So he tried to revive its hope in an effort to keep the Empire growing strong by resurrecting Xande. Who he placed his hopes and dreams in. However, Xande had seen beyond the veil and came back nihilistic and unfulfilled. Using his pact with the Cloud of Darkness, he had conquered the world but left nothing but ash in his mouth and he sought doom for all. His despair dooming the Allagan Empire but before he could see it through the Ascians intervened and ended the Empire for them causing an Umbral Calamity. Amon was warned by Emet-Selch about this before hand as the fragmented soul of Fandaniel, he would escape the calamity. The third time was purposeful for though he had taken on another new life as Fandaniel, he seethed quietly that he was denied his own death and so he simmered and learned all about the Paragon's plans and the Amaurot before. And just as Hermes had before, Fandaniel found nothing but bitter pointlessness to their dream and wanted a vengeance again. And what better way than to twist the Paragon's dream and very god to bring about ruin of the Final Days upon the modern world burning it to the ground as Emperor Xande had desired in his own pact with the Cloud of Darkness. And so for the third time, he brought about the doom of the world. But this time, Venat had fostered the hope of Eitheirys and forged it into its people and into its Champion, the Warrior of Light. So at last, it had a fighting chance and could meet Meteion's despair on equal terms.

[ravendas-xiv]

Jaakuna Kaze

The "newest" (though oldest) addition to my OC lineup. They're actually about the half-dozenth iteration of my OG WoL (who started out as an Elezen female based on my very first D&D character I made when i was 12...then got turned into a catgirl, then a Roe, then a Lala, then a bunboi who went through a couple of changes until settling...hopefully...on this form).

Background/lore/etc is very sketchy at the moment, but I'm working on them being a non-binary Allagan construct who was part of an experiment back during the pre-Calamity days, then put in stasis until being stumbled upon by Hyperia and her salvage crew during a foray into Azys Lla.

Their name translates from Hingan as "Wicked Wind" and was bestowed upon them by one of the salvage team members who was nearly rendered unconscious by a blast of air released when the vacuum seals upon Jaakuna's stasis tube were released.

Needless to say, Hyperia managed to forge a kinship with them through her fascination with Allagan tech and their shared tendency to look at life through the lense of logic over emotion.

[neighawolf]

Wolqotd: Inventions

R'aurora keeps busy. She runs a lo-fi late night radio, is a member of Garlond Ironworks, Students of Baldesion, and Skysteel Manufactury. Her most complex is like "Ghost" from Destiny. She rewired an Allagan node and made a soul-forged AI, named Sunshine. Its her best friend.

[bearer-of-the-torch]

30, 31, & 32! <3

Hello there!

Alright this one'll be a bit long but here we go!

30: If your OC was cursed to only be able to tell the complete truth, what would be the consequences? How long would it take them to get into a fight?

...this one's interesting. Depends on if the curse compels Rowena to tell the truth in a running feed or if it's only when she's actively speaking. I feel like she'd more likely end up in some sort of therapy before necessarily starting a fight. But she's usually fairly truthful. That 'complete' part might get her though (good at omission).

31: Has your OC ever been influenced by propaganda? How did this affect their behavior? What are their feelings about it now?

Rowena has definitely been influenced by Maelstrom propaganda and initially agreed quite blindly with Admiral Merlwyb's courses of action. In retrospect, she sort of regrets joining a Grand Company altogether, and Merlwyb's hypocrisy regarding the treatment of beastkin in Vylbrand does not sit well with her (she tried so hard not to laugh out loud at the peace talks with Varis in the pre-ShB patch quests).

32: Has your OC ever bought something that turned out not to be what was advertised (perhaps a forged treasure map, a poorly-made replica of an expensive item, or a fake religious relic)? What was the outcome of this?

As an assessor at Mealvaan's Gate and the daughter of a shipping magnate, Rowena was taught from a young age to be cautious of what she purchases. That said. Early in her adventuring days, she once cleverly thought she'd acquired an intact Allagan tomestone for a steal from a trader. It was a tomestone! Gutted and stripped of anything actually valuable, so she basically bought a shell. She hadn't told anyone about the purchase and ultimately didn't pay much for it, but she was endlessly embarrassed regardless and always checks data ports now.

Thank you so much for the ask @neaththeheavens!

Ask list here!

[klath-diary]

5rd, Halone 1583

Klath forged two pairs of chakrams to Miss Ethel Ymir, upon request on the message boards on the Wayfinders adventuring guild. The first are a pair of training chakrams, using a design provided by Miss Nashmeira, a renown dancer trainer. The second pair are a design of his own, the first metalwork design to incorporate aether crystals using the well-founded arcane geometry to allow the user to have a better control of his aether when holding the blades, and have an easier time recovering them after being thrown. Its a prototype, but the foundation has been solidified by other crafts he has forged before. Miss Ymir seems to be mute, as she speaks using a necklace that looks like allagan technology, which prompted her words out while we chatted. Very curious.

[crystalrune77]

Shatter Chapter 3. Even When The Going Get's Tough.

Excerpt from chapter:

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” It comes to him on its own volition. Warm adoration in his gaze he brings his thumb up to gently trace the shape of G'raha's arrow marking beneath his Allagan eye. The last light of day catches in the deep vibrant crimson as he squints from the featherlight touch. There is a reverence in his touch Y'sato does nothing to hide, a beauty untold in the way the light hits his royal eye at just at the right angle, setting the unearthly red aglow.

A shiver runs through him upon the sight. This eye, how could anyone have ever bullied him for it? Found it unsightly? It's one of the most stunning sights he has ever seen, even more so the soul behind it peering at him so openly in this very moment, vulnerable. G'rahais beautiful.

He makes sure to tell him so.

“Beautiful.”

G'raha's breath hitches, eyes wide. “You are the first to ever say that.”

Overall summary:

Their shared hardships was the spark that forged their friendship. A true bond formed, a true connection. One Y'sato thought would last for life only for fate to tear them apart...

It is more than Y'sato's heart can bear.

He shatters.

-.-.-.-

Final Fantasy 14 fandom

M/M

WoL/G'raha

Rating: Teen and up

read on Ao3

[cerezawrites]

2. Bark

Spoilers: Endwalker

As Cereza materialized in the command center of Bestway Burrows, the familiar hum of the aetheryte greeted her, followed shortly by a startled gasp and a crashing noise.  Concernedly, she turned to the source of the second, only to see a Garlean research shaking his head.  “Terribly sorry,” she said as she went over to offer a hand.  

The Garlean took it and composed himself.  “Q-quite alright. Just still not used to the whole… teleporter thing.  It was… kind of a fear in my childhood nightmares, based on the stories of mages.  Even after they installed the Aetherytes that could let you go point to point, the idea of soldiers just popping out of nowhere… oh, nevermind.  Thank you for the help.  I’m Cinna.”  

Cereza nodded, taking in his statements.  “Right… I knew you were up here, but I didn’t realize they let anyone up to the control deck to work.  Sorry, I’d have gone through the Watcher’s aetheryte if I thought about it.”  

Cinna shook his head.  “No, it’s fine, just a thing to get used to.  You’re… Cereza, right?  Hoid?”  His voice had some trepidation, but not as much as others of his nation - her reputation certainly would be that of a bloody conqueror to many Garleans, but he seemed more accepting than some, or at least less willing to jump to conclusions.  “Sorry, your name just came up recently.  The loporrits were mentioning it in relation to… Argo? Argus?”  

“Ah!  Argos.  Was… anything wrong?” she said, worried that something may have happened to him.  It wasn’t impossible for familiars to outlast their creators, and she’d inherited the role of his master, but it also wasn’t impossible that she alone couldn’t sustain his magics.  But… no.  She could feel that connection - one of many she had forged.  Her aether wasn’t as boundless as Emet-Selch’s, but he drew from the Lifestream directly; even without that, her aether reserves seemed unending, but she had limited output potential, meaning that small connections were easy to forge but hard to manifest more than a few of at a time.  

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “More that he… found something?  But they weren’t really able to communicate with him?  Urianger and Nero were working on it out by the crashed satellite; think it was Allagan, but… not, they said.”  

“OK, that makes sense in some ways and not in others… but thank you all the same.  I was looking for Urianger, so I’ll go over there and chat with him.”  She smiled, and the man, hesitantly, smiled back as she turned and pulled on that string of aether to Argos.  

A few moments later, a golden dog burst into the area and barked at her.  She smiled and patted his head.  “Hey, Argos.  Heard you found something?”  He hadn’t been gifted speech, but the bond she’d been given gave her some understanding of his thoughts.  As she spoke, she got the impressions of the strange device - something like the tech in the satellite, but older, not glowing like some of the tomestones did.  

“Huh… odd.  OK.  Let’s go pay them a visit.  She went aside the golden hound and got on his back as he barked again, flying off to their destination.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

[spotofmummery]

Do they have their own house or apartment or are they constantly on the move? Do they frequent an inn enough to have their own private room available at any time? What's the story behind it?

While Amon does own an apartment, he uses that for his Tea and Tomes shop. In the Source, he tends to use the FC house as his home.

In the First, as of the Spot of Mummery story, he (and an assortment of other characters) sneakily uses his old Allagan living quarters in the upper Syrcus Tower as a home. I haven't talked about that much as I only just introduced the concept in the To The First sections of Forge Ahead.

[sarastuss]

RELIEF &. WARMTH BOTH CURL THE CORNERS OF HER LIPS, : HOW DEEPLY ROOTED WERE THEIR SOULS, intertwined to the point there was no breaking such bond. &. trust ; trials of this have been faced. from long sleep, to forgetting, the remembering &. battles fought, won &. lost. ... 'TILL AT THE EDGE OF UNIVERSE, HER OWN MAGIC FUSED WITH HER MENTOR'S, form was given to the formless ; life given to those lost. ... golden heart tugged to all direction at the memories, but she focuses on the fact he, along with the rest currently breathe. ( let it keep the unease at bay. ) ... a mere hum laced with amusement makes her gaze avert down for a moment, the slightest shake of her head performed, before she lifts her gaze once more ; golden hues glimmer like the crystal forged for her. ❝ there is a saying about old habits being a hard thing to discard, ❞ tongue dips itself into a hint of that signature playfulness, unbreakable part of her.

AH, THE SAME CONCLUSION, : OR RATHER, THE LACK THEREOF, REACHED! glint fades, &. a serious look decorates divine features once more. gaze travels to what she could only describe as empty shells. there was nothing, but emptiness. ... ❝ i am still searching for an answer myself, ❞ they were mechanical, but did not resemble anything allagan to her eyes. each observation leads only to further questions. ❝ their leader too, wore similar technology upon him. ❞ voice does emphasize the title with slight anger ; HOW CAN ZORAAL JA BE SO DIFFERENT? for the time in - between seeing him last, &. the moment now, should not be anywhere near enough to reach such a drastic change. ... golden hues travel from the mechanical corpses back to the familiar features. she speaks slightly quieter now, ❝ ... zoraal ja slayed his own father. these things, ❞ a vague gesture at the ground, where metallic form lays cold, unmoving. ❝ whatever they may be, are under his command. ❞ BUT THERE IS THAT GLIMMER AGAIN ; the one ever present, never extinguished, ... that determination. it speaks for her, this does not end here.

there is little to gain from pessimism but somewhere in the depths of Hades, his cynicism grins victoriously: every skeptic knows to look for the coffin amidst the flowers, for the lining of calamity shooting through a rosy horizon. Family disputes and matters of succession, the unification of the Turali people behind one banner; a process far too idyllic, despite the vexing obstacles in their way ... but even still, clearly nothing could have prepared them all for an attack of such magnitude. A sudden and unannounced harvester of lives. Soul - sight makes the loss no easier to bear, and certainly not as the embodiment of the Underworld.

after a long stretch of helping the injured alongside Hythlodaeus, Sarastus at last makes herself known, an ever - bright soul radiating concern in waves. Reunions for them, it seems, are often akin to bitter fruit. [ Hythlodaeus, ever humble and dramatic in a capacity even Hades has yet to understand after eons, offers Sarastus his reassurance before leaving to join the relief effort in earnest, leaving the venerable Emet - Selch to consult with their mutual friend. ] Hades, for one, is quiet for perhaps longer than Sarastus would wish, but he turns his golden gaze to her with a nod all the same. “ Twelve thousand years has apparently done little to quell whatever fighting spirit you insisted on fostering in us, ” he says with a residual bitterness that is superfluous at best. “ We had no trouble contending with ... ” And therein lies the problem: there's no right term for the mechanical bodies littering the streets. Hades abhors leaving the statement hanging.

“ What were those? ”

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

theorycraft: prosthetics

So because I felt like it, y'all getting something from me on my prosthetic headcanons in FFXIV.

Also a reminder that disabilities that aren't repairable by magical or non-magical means do exist in FFXIV and the Warrior of Light encounters people with such during their journeys, not mention they get assistance from them, and in one notable case THROW HANDS WITH ONE OF THEM

(hi Raubahn how you doin')

Ahem.

Prosthetics are more than likely a major thing in FFXIV, and just because it's Eorzea doesn't mean they can't be top of the line. Yes we have Garlemald, and I'll throw Old Sharlayan in there too for good measure, but that again, doesn't mean that the other city-states don't have comparable ideas.

Ishgard has Skysteel. Please tell me Stephanivian wouldn't have some ideas for working prosthetics? U'ldah. HAS. MAMMETS. Gridana, a clever carpenter can hook up a body with an absolutely fire prosthetic. Limsa, with all its forges, all its metalworking?

Doma?

THAVNAIR?

AND MAY I REMIND YOU ALL OF GARLOND IRONWORKS?

And finally,

THE ALLAGANS

There is more than enough room for any type of prosthetic one heart's desires. Mathye for example, he's got a Skysteel/Ironworks semi-reverse engineered Allagan tech prosthetic. He's gone through a few iterations of it ever since he got his first one, because hi upgrades and making it smoother/sleeker/etc/Warrior of Light shenanigans. It's also now a bit Garlean flavored because Nero's his engineer now--but that's the basic gist.

I rest my case.

Also have a sexy Mathye (with my shitty, shitty MS paint skills for his prosthetic socket, I am so sorry for inflicting it upon you)

(thanks again to @healerstail for the sexy pic of Mathye!)

[voidsentprinces]

Fandaniel is just Hermes making the same mistakes over and over again.

As Hermes, Emet-Selch arrives to try and bring him to the seat of Fandaniel. Both uncaring and bewildered as to why Hermes would reject the offer, finding paradise in his work in Elpis while being somewhat jaded in his duties within it. Discontent with it and seeking an answer out there somewhere which ultimately leads to the fall of Amaurotine society.

As Amon, he is its greatest sorceror. Reconstructing Elpis as only the twisted Empire of Allagan can. But he is jaded and discontent with the failing empire and so he revived Xande. Hoping to once again divine some purpose from a higher power. But Xande does not find comfort in his Empire after he has reconquered the world and brought Allagan back to its glory, what has he left but to face death again. He turns to darkness and forsakes the future of the world so he can meet a final sweet release from his mortal coil and in confessing to Amon. He is more than happy to meet the same end with his Emperor. This is the correct way, this is the only way. But then...Emet-Selch arrives in his Empire. Telling him of its doom and calling him to the seat of Fandaniel. Discontent that Allagan’s fall isn’t to come from Xande’s purpose but from the machinations of another source.

Fandaniel is maddened with knowledge and fractured memories. Glimpses here and there of what he once had. He takes Xande’s words to heart and seeks out a way to end the entire world after the Warrior of Light snuffs out the Cloud of Darkness’s pact and the Emperor Xande himself. Fandaniel is discontent with his path as an Ascian and so he seeks out a higher power in Zodiark and meets an equally jaded Prince of Garlemald along the way. The two seek their ends in the most glorious of fashions. Fandaniel wishing to end it all by bringing about the Final Days that was suppose to grant him sweet release in the first place and Zenos who seeks one final battle to rekindle whatever flame has since been left cold in his breast. When the Warrior of Light circumvents and finds a path forward out of the hell the both have forged. Fandaniel bars the way to the Mother Crystal from the hero. Malcontent that things will just keep on going. And even at the end of it all, he is discontent with his own death and the sweet nothing Xande sought out. Completely ignoring Asahi’s belligerence the entire time. Asahi, another man malcontent with his own end having betrayed his precious Lord Zenos and forced to do so by and equally discontent man.

Making the same mistakes over and over. As Hermes, leading to the end of the Amaurot’s paradise when he sought the answer to his longing heart via Meteion. As Amon, leading to the end of the Allagan Empire when he revived Xande who in turn sought out the Cloud of Darkness and who was used as an instrument in the Ascian’s machinations. Finally, as Fandaniel, leading to the Final Days arriving on a fractured Eitheirys once more, the end of days stopped after Emet-Selch has passed on and with the fractured existence of Azem, shepherding the star to its proper place once more. Finding the answers Hermes spent a thousand, thousand life times seeking but never truly finding in the end. Another tragedy of hubris and a repeating cycle from yet another member of the Amaurot’s society.

[autumnslance]

Prompt# 3: Temper

Her protection shone clearly. This one. This was the one he had been waiting for.

Midgardsormr studied the mortal. Even as he intoned taunting proclamations, a part of him simply…measured.

Wondered.

Would she be found wanting?

Ages ago—even by his reckoning—he had sworn oaths to this world’s god in exchange for a home for his children. One oath was to await Her champion. She had given him the signs to watch for.

She needed to be certain this mortal was the one foreseen.

The girl’s soul burned with a wild, reckless Light, heady on her minor successes so far, nascent will reflected in the stubborn set of her jaw and aggressive stance. She had flailed her way up the wreckage and against his tests, tougher and faster than he had expected—but only just.

There was potential here, certainly. Yet still far from the hero who must save their world. From what, She had not told him. Only that he would know Her Chosen, and so perform as agreed upon.

The girl cried out as his power locked away her uncontrolled Light. Time and action would tell if she could break through his barrier and reclaim her gifts. If she was truly worthy of a lonely god’s hope.

The mortal would be tempered in the flames of the Dragonsong—or she would burn.

—

He followed and watched; through tragedy and triumph, joy and despair, grief and gain. There were other, kinder ways to forge a person, and his fatherly heart almost regretted the sorrows that barred her path.

Yet she pressed on, overcoming each obstacle, passing every challenge. Both alone and with the aid of her companions, she fought. To help, to protect. Even amidst rage and sorrow, there was compassion in her actions and choices.

And the Crystals answered.

Her will broke through the wall he had built; only a crack at first, but chipping away more and more, until they stood in Azys Lla with her brilliance fully relit.

Not the wild, uncontrolled flames of their first meeting.

The Light was refined and ready.

For this trial, at least; there was more work to do, more room to grow. But now, her strength was directed. Now she understood.

And perhaps he did, too, having listened and watched over these moons as she tried to save both of their peoples from themselves.

‘Hearken, Hydaelyn,’ he silently called as he flew with the mortal to face the encroaching Darkness. ‘I have done as asked and tested thy champion. I shall continue to watch and guide, but her choices are hers to make. If thou wouldst temper thy weapon further, use caution, lest she turn back upon thee.’

He received a pleased laugh in reply, and relaxed. She had no intention of directing this mortal’s path; She merely needed the girl ready for the challenges to come, able to stand strong in the face of unimaginable adversity.

This Warrior of Light would, Midgardsormr knew, watching her stride into the Allagan hulk to confront danger. And for what time he could, he would be there alongside her.

Not only to see the fruits of his labors, his craftwork in action—but for her, this strong, brilliant mortal, who had, truthfully, forged herself.