#Then Shael then Anchor

[anchor-management]

C&F: Corruption Arc

Featuring: @sea-and-storm [Ghoa Mankhad], @shaelstormchild [Shael Stormchild], @anchor-management [Anchor Saltborn] and [Brick], @afreesworn [Nabi Kharlu] and [Roen Deneith], @sentryandco [Egil Nylor] and [Estrid Nylor] + ∞ NPCs, @tribblesfuriousart [Buoy Saltborn] [Diya-something-or-other], @banquoviaquo [Gideon North], [Orfeuille], [Luri Kai].

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The group's search for answers has taken them from The Far East, to the shores of Vylbrand. Their continued research into corrupted aether leads them to investigate a reclusive "Doctor Nylor", a name given by an ailing man--Abner Funk--that had a curious and yet similar sickness as Anchor during a visit to The Salt Strand.

Things quickly go wrong when the group splits to investigate the lead on two different fronts: Nabi and Ghoa devise a plan to infiltrate a theatre posing as entertainers, while Anchor and Shael travel to Upper La Noscea to follow a lead concerning the doctor's apparent employment of ailing individuals.

Separated and without contact due to a number of troubling circumstances, multiple plans fall into action over the course of the following days--with the help of some allies and friends in the midst--all eventually converging on Doctor Nylor's residence.

Of course, no amount of planning could prepare them for what surprises lay in wait...

- - - - -

- - - - -

Some closer-ups.

This pic took entirely too long to do. That is all.

Oh, just that and the fact I appreciate the people involved in this ongoing story of stories. It's been years actual years and that is pretty cool.

[afreesworn]

A Happy Birthday

@anchor-management surprised me with this very wonderful birthday present! It brings me such joy since it calls back to Nabi's first nameday celebration she shared with her closest people.

The picture shows that years later, they remain as close as ever, if not more so.

Thank you SO MUCH @anchor-management!!! <3

And if you want to go check out more wonderful art, you can look up @r2ruen!!

[yutaan]

A sketch sheet commission of the client's FFXIV group! These cuties are Anchor (face tattoos), Nabi (short and cheery and here to offer you flowers), Shael (good at poker, great taste in hats), Brick (fellow poker enthusiast), and Ghoa (dance dance revolution). I've drawn this crew before (and drawn Anchor and Nabi several times, in fact!) and it's always a fun time to do so. 😊 Sheets where I get to draw fun little character interactions like these are very satisfying!

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #15: Row

Cheaters never win, the old adage echoed within Ghoa’s mind.. along with a faint, stinging throb. Too bad the saying hadn’t occurred to her before the unfortunate string of events that had transpired all within the last two or three minutes. Not that she would have listened to it anyway, probably..

A race had been proposed, from the end of the docks at Costa del Sol to a rock upon the nearby sandbar. Of course, the intention of the proposal had been for the racers – Anchor, Shael, Nabi and herself – to take the route across the sand and then swim across in the final leg. But such specifics were never stated and, knowing full well how horrid of a chance she stood in any contest of physical prowess, that clever mind of hers had begun thinking of a way to exploit the loopholes.

Her strategy? As the others raced down the roundabout path across the beach, she would head in the opposite direction back across the dock to the closest jumping point between here and the finish line. It shortened the run and swim both, not that she was overly concerned about the latter. If there was one physical task that Ghoa could claim some skill at, it was swimming.

The run was still plenty long for her.. less than hardy endurance. But so, too, did she have an idea for that.

"You know? I'm feeling so confident that I think I might even give you lot a head start," she hummed as she hung back. "I can start from right here."

"Ya’ up tae somethin,” Shael answered as she fixed her with a rightfully doubtful look. “..but that be yer game."

"I'm just saying," the Mankhad answered innocently as she takes off the sunglasses perched atop her head, stuffing them into the waistband of her swim bottoms for security. "I was raised on the beaches and in the water. It's only fair, you know?"

"Ya sure showed that gurgling salt water that time.” Anchor’s retort saw her gaze narrow as she looked over in his direction.

“That was different,” she huffed defiantly. For one, they weren’t atop a wildly pitching ship tossed to and fro by storm-frenzied waves, but she didn’t press the point. It was doubtful neither he nor Shael would concede that point. Besides, she’d show them just how adept of a swimmer she was when she stood victorious upon that rock, looking down upon them in triumph.

As the others started forward towards the end of the dock where the starting line should have before, Ghoa primed herself to leap into action the moment the moment the word ‘Go!’ left Shael’s lips.

Off she was down the pier like a bolt of lightning, only to hit her first stumbling block early. Her sandal caught on an uneven board of the pier, snapping the thong and sending her pitching forward. Luckily, she was able to catch herself, but the mishap had certainly slowed her. But she would win. She had to win.

Pushing down the frantic burning of her lungs from the effort, Ghoa kept her eyes on the prize. Wait, what even was the prize? Maybe it was that thought that caused her focus to lapse as she reached the pier’s end. Or maybe it was the quick look back that told her she was in the lead as the others just reached wading depth in the shallows, filling her with overconfidence.

Whatever it was, it kept her from committing wholeheartedly to the graceful dive she had planned. Another misstep and the Mankhad found herself suddenly sliding without control across the slippery end of the dock and with a shocked squeal quickly drowned out by a splash, Ghoa bellyflopped into the sea. 

Well.. so much for winning.

Choking and sputtering as she surfaced, the bleary-eyed Xaela’s first instinct was to look around to see who had witnessed her embarrassment. Immediately, her eyes found those of a ferryman but a few fulm away, affixing her with a look that was equal parts concern and amusement with a healthy side of confusion atop it.

“You, er.. okay, miss..?” he managed as he leaned over the boat’s edge, offering a hand to pull her into the dinghy. Thank the gods he at least had the tact not to bust out laughing in her face, or else the Mankhad might have just lowered herself to the sea floor then and let the ocean take her right then.

“P-perfectly fine..” Ghoa managed with not a small dose of sarcasm as she paddled over and reached up to take the hand, using it to pull herself into the boat. Sort of. As if to only add further insult to injury, her foot slipped upon the edge and with another splash, back into the briny depths she went for a second helping of humble pie.

Finally, the Mankhad made it into the rowboat on her second attempt. By then, it was obvious that the ferryman was struggling not to laugh at what he had just witnessed, his cheeks as red from the effort as her entire front side was from the sting of meeting the water face-on. 

Yet he paddled on in merciful silence and Ghoa pulled her sunglasses from her waistband – half amazed that they hadn’t managed to go by the wayside much as he broken sandal – and slipped them onto her nose. As if that would hide her embarrassment once she disembarked..

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” she huffed as she reached the sandbar, still red-tinted and hair bedraggled. 

“The hells happened?” Anchor asked.

At least the others had been so consumed by competition that it would seem none had witnessed it. Only the ferryman and probably half of La Noscea besides once his shift was ended and he was able to recount the unfortunate encounter to much laughter later.

“Oh, um..” Nabi chimed in, tone suspiciously evasive. “Caught a bad wave, yes?”

Well, at least the only one amongst them who had witnessed the spectacular failure was Nabi, too sweet by half to acknowledge it. 

Before she could answer, another coughing and sputtering fit overtook her. As she straightened, her tone was sour. “I hate races,” she huffed unhelpfully. “This was a terrible idea.”

Yet for all their amusement at her expense as they crossed the beach in search of what she sorely hoped was a nearby bar, Ghoa had to admit there was a part of her – deep, deep down below the humiliation – that was thankful for a moment of shared levity. It was rare for the lot of them to steal moments like this together in peace rather than having to band together in the face of a common, dire foe.

But next time they had a moment of respite, Ghoa sure hoped that no one proposed anymore stupid races.

[shaelstormchild]

Prompt 18: Reticent

Shael slid down the wall she had been leaning on, the tension that had held her muscles ready for the last few bells finally wearing upon the woman. She set her gun down next to her and pushed up the magitek goggles to sit atop her forehead, a deep frown taking permanent residence upon her visage since the moment she had entered the manse.

She had to keep going over all that she knew in her head, else the devastating news that Ghoa had shared about Nabi’s whereabouts would provide too sharp a distraction. And if she allowed that to happen, Shael knew she would give into the temptation to storm out the door in an instant, unleashing her fury upon anyone she came across. Whether they were complicit or not.

And while there was an insidious voice inside her that whispered that it was indeed her true desire, Shael managed to stay put, her glare boring into the door across the room, turning her focus onto the next steps.

Ghoa only knew the rough layout of the place, and certainly not the location of the Doctor’s laboratory where Nabi was being kept. If what Shael suspected was true, and this Doctor was conducting all manner of experiments on living people, this facility couldn’t be on the main floor or even the manse proper. If he had a habit of keeping a person in a cage, the room had to be fortified and hidden so that such deeds would escape notice. After all, they were in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Mist.

As Ghoa’s bedroom easily demonstrated, the normal quarters of the estate were visible and too easily accessible. This meant that the doctor’s workshop was elsewhere. It was possible that he hid it somewhere within the theater next to the manse. The building looked newer than the house itself, it could have been constructed within, or hidden below the structure. Or, since Mist had a deep winding sewer system below all the houses, there could be a basement or something deeper underground. And an old estate like this always had hidden passageways and doors.

There were too many unknown variables. And the more uncertain Shael became of her next steps, the more intrusive Ghoa’s earlier words became. He experiments upon her. She is being held caged.

Shael dug her fingers into the plush rug that spanned the entire room. She tore off a piece of the woven fiber, her own fingernail chipping at the edges from the harsh grip. But the pain made it easier for her to focus.

She couldn’t trust the handmaiden no matter what Ghoa’s impressions of her. But she was the best one to tap for the layout of the place, especially if the servant knew enough about how Nabi was being kept; she may have even been to the laboratory. Shael just might have to force herself to wait until the morning, when the maid delivers the items promised to Ghoa. If all things seem in order, then maybe they will trust her to outline a path to the laboratory.

Then of course, there was the matter of Ghoa’s own plan—of charging her own aether, to the brink of corruption level of instability, so that she could induce a fit in the Doctor’s sister. Ghoa was wagering that she could use either his sister as a bargaining chip for Nabi, or use her heightened aetheric abilities to unleash chaos upon the house, allowing Shael and Brick to do what they needed to do.

A risky bet, for sure, one that Shael would not have been in favor of, had the stakes not been so high. They didn’t have any other choice.

But they weren’t back in the fighting pits, where all that mattered was getting Nabi out alive, everyone else be damned. Back then, Shael would have easily left everyone else to their own fates. 

And now? Shael’s first priority was to get Nabi free—that was not in question. But it didn't end there. Just as she had left Anchor behind to keep him alive, she couldn’t leave Mankhad to fend for herself.

She just needed to figure out how to get all of them out alive.

[sentryandco]

#1: Crux

For as long as he could remember, Arasen knew he was destined for something important. He had prepared himself for it. He had prayed to the gods that when the time came, he would be worthy of the path that would reveal itself to him.

Then when the horrific visions came of the futures that could be, Arasen was nearly undone by the terrors that visited him every time he closed his eyes. But he didn’t bemoan that the gift of Sight was truly just a curse that no longer allowed him to see beyond the suffering that lay ahead. Instead, he persevered, escaping the precipice of insanity from the sleepiness nights and overwhelming despair. He had to learn that compassion and mercy had no place in his life, for if he was to walk the path that would lead to the salvation of all, he couldn’t afford any distractions that could detract him from his goal. He would fulfill his duty by any means necessary, truthfulness and happiness be damned.

And now, within the bowels of the earth beneath the ancient ruins that held powers capable of granting his ultimate wish, it was here that Arasen saw his destiny. This was where his years of torment and nightmares would end, where the prophecy of the Lost Daughter would be finally fulfilled.

Only, there were two paths that await him.

The first choice was the obvious one. It was what he had been working for, his years of machinations finally bearing fruit. The Lost Daughter had been found, and she had been brought to the altar of the ancients, where her blood and soul would give life to the god that slept. He needed only to nudge the tides of battle in favor of the black irises, so that they would take what is rightfully theirs, and awaken the nameless entity that slumbered beneath the mountain.

It should have been an easy decision. All those years he had labored, deceiving everyone, hardening his heart, and damning his soul, what was it for if not for this moment? 

And yet, it had been a journey of solitude. None else had walked this path with him, only the crushing weight of the foreboding knowledge was his companion.

But somewhere along the way, he saw the Lost Daughter for more than just the ends to his means. Nabi was warm and full of life. She was so eager to share her joy but also too generous in her mercy. Even after finding out about his machinations, she forgave him, and even offered him a second chance. But he should have expected that. The sacrifice had to be worthy of the greatness that awaited.

What surprised him, however, was the flawed and unworthy companions his cousin had around her. Arasen had long come to accept that the rest of the world was tainted. It was because of the imperfections, the hubris and greed in people’s hearts, that allowed for so much suffering to exist in the first place. And that was initially what he saw in everyone that Nabi called her friends and family.

Arasen had no hesitation in lying to them, using them, and manipulating them. He was certain a few of them would have to die, even if by his own hands. So then, why was he fighting by their side now?

Stormchild was easy to figure out, but dangerous to scheme around. A cold-hearted killer, whenever she threatened to take his life, Arasen had no doubt she would carry it through. But she held her hand, and risked much, including her own life, for the sake of his cousin. 

Then there was Saltborn. Quick of temper with a sour disposition, the hyur took a disliking to him immediately. Arasen was certain the Confederate had to die, for he was closest to Nabi, and the strongest obstacle in his way. Arasen had even put a blade to his throat, fully intent on killing him.

But in a twist of fate, Saltborn instead saved Arasen from drowning beneath the tumultuous sea, and even forfeited his chances to kill him outright, when more than a few opportunities were laid at his feet. With much reluctance, the hyur spared the Kharlu, even after fully remembering all the pain that the Xaela had caused him. All because of the slim chance that Arasen could now save Nabi from her fate. Arasen knew full well that he would not be here, if it wasn’t for Saltborn.

Then there was Ghoa. She was most like him, with her honeyed tongue and selfish motivations. And initially, whenever she extended a hand of friendship towards him, Arasen thought it much like his own incentive, to keep everyone close and yet at a distance, to watch them and discern their weaknesses. Enthralling her was an absolute necessity. But Arasen soon realized just how easy it turned out to be. Was it because she loved Batuhan that she assumed the best of him as well? Arasen could not deny that Batu’s fondness for the Mankhad may have softened his own disposition towards her. But that did not stop him from using his blood magic to tug on the woman’s thoughts, turning them to his own favor. 

But to his surprise, when faced with a great need, Ghoa offered something of herself, without any manipulation on his part. A schemer caring for the sake of others. That caught him off guard. But moreso, it reminded him that he too had such good intentions, at the very start of his own journey. So when had things gotten so warped?

It was because of all of them that he was even giving this second choice a thought. 

As Arasen stared up at the colossal darkness that loomed before them all, he reminded himself of the pure idea that began his journey. The prophecy had been about salvation and sacrifice. But what he hadn’t realized until now, was that somewhere within it all, was also a thread of hope. Of an impossible dream that could be realized if one was willing to give all they had for the sake of others.

Arasen touched his chest for the rune that was etched there, a tactile reminder of his childhood promise and his bond. Of his original ideals. To choose the second path would be to break the enchantment upon Ghoa. To return to Batu all that Arasen had taken from him. He would be severing his bonds with all of them. A wash of loneliness returned to him, but with it a sense of contentment. He wasn’t following Chanai and Siban’s designs, he wasn’t being driven by visions of death. The path he chose now was for hope, and a future of happiness, not for himself, but for others.

He would prove himself worthy.

[r2ruen]

C&F: Flower Arc

Featuring: @shaelstormchild [Shael Stormchild], @sentryandco [Batuhan Kharlu] and The Dickhole [Arasen Kharlu], @afreesworn [Nabi Kharlu], @anchor-management [Anchor Saltborn], and @jaliqai-and-company [Ghoa Mankhad]

This was. Quite the project. But! I adore these characters and the stories weaved by not only the very talented DM (or whatever an rp equivalent would be called) @sentryandco​ who is the mind behind our current antagonist and some of the most bestest beloved “NPC” characters--i hesitate to even call them that (shoutout to Batu and wherever you are Myuto), but also all the flavor added on top of that of everyone's character’s individual stories and personalities I get to see unravel as time goes on. I always get inspired to do like... poster style Chapter/Arc pics in the past, but have never tackled one. AND SO I FIX THAT TODAY.

So this is dedicated to all of them and the current Arc. And also as thanks to you-know-who-you-are. 

So thank you. 

[meandering-mind]

I think I wanna ask Shael, Ghoa, and Anchor for the FRYING PAN INSTEAD.

Seduce: Ghoa :eyes: Share A Drink With: Anchor - He’s not about to throw a frying pan at someone that Nabi likes!! Hit With A Frying Pan: Shael but maybe gently. 

>>Send three names and my muse will tell you who they would seduce, share a drink with, and hit with a frying pan.

[afreesworn]

17: Novel

“So, Miss Deneith! You are back in Eorzea for good?” 

Reese Templeton always had a nervous energy about him. He was an excellent accountant – insofar as he seemed to have an eye for details and diligently informed her of business decisions that could not be made without her input. As far as Roen was concerned, he knew more about how her own wealth was managed than she did.

Being hands off was much more to her liking, the sizable estate that was left to her upon Nero’s passing never truly felt as if it belonged to her. With Mister Templeton as her accountant managing her investments in Ishgard and Ul’dah, Roen was free to travel to various corners of Eorzea, Othard, and most recently Sharlayan. 

But whenever Roen returned to Eorzea - much to the gratitude of her accountant - she always stopped by his office in Limsa Lominsa as a courtesy. He was never lacking for contracts and documents for her to sign, and never short of suggestions on dinner parties and lunches she should attend, to keep “relevant” amongst the wealthy and privileged that made up so-called “high society.” The latter was always refused, politely, and today would be no different.

“Not for good, but a bit longer this time, perhaps.” Roen nodded, hooking one arm on the oaken chair, reclining onto the quilted back. The tea he offered her remained untouched in front of her, on his desk. As usual, the man had stacks of papers and ledgers all around him, as if he was only happy juggling multiple things at once. “A few moons, I think.”

Reese raised both his eyebrows. “Oh! What is the occasion? Are you finally giving yourself some respite after traveling abroad for what… years now?” He was being facetious, of course; the man knew precisely how long she had been away for, probably down to the last bell.

“No special occasion,” Roen answered with a roll of her shoulders. “I just thought I should return home for a while. Perhaps even seek out a few friends that I have not spoken to in sometime.”

“Hm,” Reese hummed. Roen could see him wanting to pry her for more details, but somehow managed to restrain himself from doing so. They both had learned a little about each other over the years, and generally knew what to expect from one another. “Well! Your friends should be in for a pleasant surprise, yes? As far as you have been a client, I’ve not known you to take such time for yourself.” 

There was a deeper bow of her head, in acknowledging that simple fact. Indeed, she had not kept in touch with many - if not all - of the people she cared for. There were letters sent, of course, albeit infrequently, and while some have diligently written back, others…she had not heard from still.

It took her many years to finally mend old wounds, and in doing so, she had put some distance between herself and those that were dear to her. 

Perhaps it was time to close those rifts as well.

Reese regarded her thoughtful silence curiously, before adjusting the set of his glasses. “So then, should I expect you in La Noscea for a bit?” From his tone, he was eager to make some appointments on her behalf.

“I will be heading up to Ishgard first, to try and find someone,” It was a deft way to avoid yet again declining invitation to social events. “I’ll send word when I am back in La Noscea.” Her expression softened. “I would like to visit the orphanages, both here and Ul’dah.”

What looked like initial disappointment turned into a look of surprised anticipation. “Wonderful!” he chirped. “I will send word to the Albatross Orphanage. I am sure the head mistress would be happy to hear.” He tapped some parchments together on the desk, setting them neatly in front of him then clasped his hands together. “Then perhaps we can speak again about adding a few more stops to your itinerary?”

His persistence was at least admirable. Roen held up a hand but offered a small smile. “One thing at a time, Mister Templeton. Let me at least begin the process of finding my friend, then we will see what comes after that.”

If there was one thing she had learned from her years of traveling, it was to never plan too far in advance. New and unexpected things always had a way of ruining the most carefully laid plans - hers especially.

[afreesworn]

6: Onerous

Anchor Saltborn certainly had a talent for being antagonistic.

But, as Roen reminded the abrasive hyur more than once – and herself on a few occasions – she wasn’t here for him. He couldn’t send her away no matter how many times he repeated the same sentiment. She was doing this as a favor for Shael. Her promise was to make certain that Anchor didn’t die from his aether sickness, which meant that all she had to do was to make sure he continued to draw breath until Shael relieved her of her charge. But that would be the very minimum that was required of her. And Roen simply couldn’t leave it at that.

Then there was this matter of another person in trouble. Roen hadn’t intended on listening in on his conversation – she was loath to pry into other people’s personal business – but she couldn’t help but note the man’s quick turn around in behavior when it came to this unnamed woman. And the anxiety upon his features was unmistakable when he spoke to Shael about her, and even more so as he waited for an answer with a different pearl in hand. As far as Roen could tell, no one answered on the other side.

Was there someone else in trouble, driving this man forward, despite the fact that the physical pain that wracked his body was clearly written on his face? His ragged breath and pasty skin made it all the more plain that he was still very ill. Why would Shael entrust one with such unfavorable disposition to a total stranger he didn’t know? Her friend must have had little choice in the matter. Was it so that Shael could also go and search for this woman as well?

It did not escape Roen’s notice that Shael did not share any details on why she had to leave in such a hurry. Which meant her friend did not want the paladin embroiled in this particular matter. And knowing the smuggler, there were probably illegal activities involved. Roen had already discovered the Wanted poster bearing Saltborn’s likeness in Moraby, although with a little bit of digging, she also discovered that there were no deaths or robbery involved. It was a matter of trespassing and assault.

Which raised plenty more questions that had yet to be answered, but Roen was certain her charge would not be providing any explanations. He was all too eager to get rid of her by way of vocalizing excessive contempt, not wanting one onze of Roen’s involvement in whatever he was about to do. 

And had he just been an obnoxiously hostile fellow, Roen would have been tempted to let him be. Just follow him at a distance to keep her promise, to make sure he didn’t collapse in some ditch, and then when the fatigue eventually caught up to him, carry him back to whatever shelter and await Shael’s return.

But instead, here she was, driving a wagon with Naldiq & Vymelli's brand on them, thanks to her own connections. She thought to thank Reese, her accountant, in passing next time they spoke, only to decide against it since the misery hyur would definitely not approve of using their business contacts to assist in aiding and abetting a wanted man.

A small huff escaped Roen’s lips, one corner tugged upwards with vague amusement. There was a time where she too was a wanted woman. She supposed everything came around in a circle eventually.

She glanced over her shoulder, spying from the corner of her eye, Anchor barely staying conscious. He was fully tilted to one side, his head resting against the edge of his seat. He looked drawn as ever, his eyes squinted with pain. His gaze didn’t seem focused, but still very much troubled, wherever his thoughts went.

Roen sighed. She would keep her promise to Shael, and keep this man from joining the lifestream. And maybe she would even eventually convince him to rest, once they found what he was looking for.

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write Prompt #1: Cross

A hissing sigh of frustration left Ghoa’s lips as she angrily crossed out yet another failed formulation.

Leaning forward in her chair, the Mankhad returned her quill to its inkpot and returned her head to her hands. It had been bells now since Estrid’s handmaiden Luri had left her to her thinking and hypothesizing. The Raen’s suggestion of using some manner of alchemical concoction to induce a fit in the lady significant enough to draw her gods-be-damned brother out of his laboratory had sparked in her mind no shortage of ideas. Yet for all her nonstop laboring in the hours since, Ghoa had yet to find a formulation that seemed theoretically sound. 

With these perilously high stakes, Ghoa would not be satisfied until she was certain her potion would work to perfection. After all, it could very well be the only opportunity she would have if things went poorly.

“Seven hells,” she groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched at her hair. “Think. Think..”

She hadn’t any spare materials or tools available with which to tinker and experiment as was her usual means of arriving at successful alchemical invention. Any textbooks and treatises she might have to lead her in the right direction were locked away in their inn room. There was much she did not know about the Lady Estrid - her weight, her height, her constitution, or just how volatile her condition was. Worst of all, each passing tick of the clock made her exponentially more aware of the excruciating crush of time weighing down upon her shoulders.

As she released her grasp, the Xaela instead slumped back into her chair and directed her gaze up towards the ceiling as if searching it for her hidden answer. While it yielded nothing of good use, a dark thought instead crossed her mind in its place.

What if she took the need of Lady Estrid’s safety out of the equation? Poisoning certainly widened the acceptable margins for error. If she didn’t have to worry about moderating the potion’s effects nor having a remedy at hand, those were important factors that Ghoa could easily be liberated from in her calculations. Whatever happened, happened.. just so long as it gave her enough time to convince the Doctor that surrendering Nabi and allowing them to leave unmolested would win him an antidote that she needn’t even craft with aught but hollow, silvered words. 

Long, tense moments passed by as she silently argued with her better self about doing whatever she had to do in order to free Nabi from her detainment. Her stomach twisted itself into knots she tried to convince herself that she could do just what the shadowy whisper in the back of her mind suggested.

But suddenly her mind was pulled back to just days before they had come to this awful place when she stood in the plaza affronting the Alchemists Guild in Ul’dah, wracked by the uncomfortable reminder of all the missteps she had taken upon the wayward path that had led her there. She had subdued those thoughts with the reassurance that while she could not change her past ill wanderings, that she would henceforth stray no further. There were too many people whom she cared about that she dared not disappoint by falling into old habits, taking the easy way out. Most importantly, she dared not disappoint herself.

Ghoa didn’t want to hurt Estrid any more than was absolutely necessary to enact their plan. She had been earnest when she had said that she wanted to help free the woman from her affliction. What she suffered was imprisonment of its own right, though her prison possessed no iron bars or chains. Being locked away in one’s own tortured mind with no hope of escape.. The Mankhad could think of little else worse than that, and such was a fate none deserved to suffer.

No, there had to be an answer that did not simply use the already suffering woman as fodder for her own needs. She just had to think harder.

Even with her renewed determination, the alchemist’s mind still struggled to find the right solution with just the right balance. Once again, frustration began to mount within her mind and tension coiled around her body like a snake. Involuntarily, the Storm within seemed to stir in kind as often it did when her mind was in a state of tumult. She could feel the telltale tingle of electricity brimming underneath skin and scale. She could smell the faintest hint of ozone in the air around her as the Storm threatened to swell and break over her.

Wait, she thought as her eyes widened. Could it truly be that simple?

When first she and Nabi had performed, Ghoa’s aether had crescendoed into a thunderous flourish meant to impress, but had instead sent the Lady Estrid into a frenzy. The answer was right there in front of her all along. She needn’t worry about finding just the right strength of potion nor concocting any manner of remedy.. but nor did she have to resort to endangering Estrid’s life with poison.

She only needed be afforded an encore of sorts.

Amongst the papers and tomes that she had borrowed from the Alchemists Guild in regards to the research of aetheric corruption, no few had talked of their methods in which to simulate such factors when subjects for experimentation were - understandably - not in ready supply. 

Particularly, she recalled one such paper that detailed how its author had tried to induce a state similar to full-blown corruption within a test subject with a formulation that had temporarily pulled their aetheric alignment sharply out of balance towards one element or another. Of course, the effect hadn’t been as profoundly volatile as that which was found in true corruption.. But regardless, the study had been cut short prematurely for safety concerns when the subject struggled to maintain control of their roiling aether to a nonetheless dangerous degree.

In true scholarly fashion, the author had detailed the steps they had taken in formulating the tincture.. presumably so that none would repeat their mistakes, or at least would find means to improve upon them before making another attempt. But for her purposes, the recipe as written would more than suffice.

Leaning back over the desk, Ghoa plucked up the quill and began to scribble out her calculations. Instead of having to make estimations of Estrid’s height, weight, and other such factors, she scribbled in those far more familiar - her own.

As it was, the Storm was hard enough to control when she was fully in her right mind. To purposefully induce a surge of such magnitude could very well wrest the wild levin out of Ghoa’s hands entirely. But if she struggled to control her aether, it stood to reason that Estrid would succumb to another fit of her own until there was enough distance between them for her to no longer feel the Storm’s bite as it had the first time when they had left the manse after her failed dance.

It was impossible to extinguish a flame whilst someone continued to pour ceruleum over it, after all.

But even if Ghoa were to successfully coerce the Doctor into surrendering Nabi and allowing them to leave in peace, there was still the matter of how to right the state she sought to put herself into to achieve it. And unfortunately, that answer was somewhat less clear to her.

In the study, the author had mentioned that their subject had received aetheric treatments in order to bring them back to a state of elemental balance. Of course, given that the treatments hadn’t been alchemical in nature, the author hadn’t seen fit to detail them any further than in simple anecdote.

Yet if it was matter of simple aetherology and elemental conquests and submissions, Ghoa’s working theory was that a surge of electrified aether would gradually reach equilibrium in the presence of grounding earth aether. And as it just so happened, the very woman she sought to free had the most inexplicably profound connection with the earth that she had ever seen. 

Gods, it was such a risk.. But far more than her desperate, half-cocked plan to fake a kidnapping, this idea seemed to hold much more weight as she ran through it over and over again in her mind. And if worse came to worst and things went awry? She’d certainly be in a fit state to make a stand to try and fight their way out.. and it would’ve given her no small amount of pleasure to wipe the sour look off of face of the guard outside her door in particular. 

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #10: Channel

[TW] Just a smidge of non-descriptive body horror, but nothing too wild!

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

It was well after midnight when Ghoa finally finished with her fervent scribbling of calculations, slumping back in her chair as a great, long yawn overtook her. Though her mind continued to race with ‘What if?’s, the stresses of the day and the uncertainty of the unknowns of those yet to come had begun to weigh heavy upon her now drooping shoulders and eyelids both.

Her half-lidded eyes came to rest upon the scribbled list in front of her for one final appraisal. None of the reagents listed upon it should’ve been especially burdensome for Luri to obtain, especially not in a place so rich with trade as La Noscea. Most of that which she had requested were but basic alchemical materials meant to form a sufficiently aetherically conductive suspension within which the concoction’s main ingredient could flow unimpeded. But the final ingredient upon the list, though it would likely be even easier than the rest for the handmaiden to find and acquire for her, gave the alchemist pause regardless:  a single lightning crystal shard.

It brought Ghoa’s mind back to distant memories, of late nights much like this one spent holed up in the grand personal library of the Parikh estate. Given that her Hannish mentor’s life work had dealt with the human aetherochemical condition, it was little wonder that the lion’s share of tomes and papers within those shelves dealt with such subject matter.

For one such lesson in the basics of aetherology early on in her tutelage, Sarasvati had assigned to her a number of those works for her to study and report back upon. It was to one of those papers that her mind wandered to now, a sort of academic warning tale of the fragility of a person’s aetheric state. The notes of an alchemist who had been tasked with the treatment of a fool who thought by consuming the shards of a fire crystal, they would thereby be able to summon and channel powerful fire magicks.

Naturally, it hadn’t worked out well for the individual, no matter how hard the alchemist treating their self-inflicted condition had worked to reverse the effects. Such a sudden and stark destabilization of their aetheric balance had caused irreversible damage as their very being had rapidly unwound like a loose spool of thread. Not only had it manifested in horrific external mutations in the subject, but the autopsy performed after had revealed that even their internal organs had turned black as ash, as if burned by raging fire. A miserable and painful end it must have been, to be consumed so violently from the inside out. 

It was hardly a reassuring thought to allow to bounce around in her mind given that this was – albeit to a lesser and hopefully far more controlled degree – exactly what her potion made of ground lightning crystal sought to achieve. Thus was why she had to be so very sure of her calculations and her formulation. Every variable and value had to be exactingly accurate. Just a hair too much crystal in the mix and it stood to reason that she could very well end up as the subject of her own ill-fated academic paper meant to warn people away from exactly what it was that she was doing now.

Ghoa breathed out a shaking sigh as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Truthfully, there was no small part of her that wanted to just discard the idea entirely. It was too risky. It was too reckless. The margin of error was so punishingly small. 

But.. that had always been when she had done her finest work, no? From the time so many years ago when she had fled the Kharlu, to far more recently when she had stood with the others against the embodiment of suffering itself deep underground.. Nothing had ever caused Ghoa to rise higher to the occasion than having her back against the wall, forcing her to have the confidence in herself and in those around her to see her through those trials.

The corner of her lip twitched upwards into a soft, tired smirk. Mayhap she was mad for it, but Ghoa would not back down from her wild plan now. She was confident in herself, in her ability and her alchemical knowledge. She was confident in Nabi’s peculiar restorative abilities being able to pull her back from the knife’s edge if necessary. 

Perhaps most importantly, she had faith that if all were to go awry regardless, Shael and Anchor were still out there somewhere. That even if her own efforts did fail them, that pair – just as reckless as she at times – would have no qualms about cutting and shooting their way to their rescue if need be.

[afreesworn]

Friends and Debts

Anchor Saltborn.

Sour disposition. Loyal to Ironsong. Suffering from aether sickness. Possibly prone to attacking strangers upon regaining consciousness. Perhaps even involved in illegal affairs.

The last bit was pure speculation on Roen’s part but both Shael and Brick avoided answering the question of how and where their friend contracted his current ailment. Roen knew next to nothing about Brick – other than he seemed formidable, careful, and was most frugal in his speech – but the fact that Shael was tight lipped about so many things surrounding this man and her next urgent matter, likely meant that they were all involved in something Roen would not approve of.

But that never stopped Shael from getting her involved before, even peripherally. And given their past together, and for all that Roen owed the smuggler, she couldn’t say no.

Aylard’s death would forever be a deep wound in her soul, one that Roen could never willingly mend. The pang of guilt was well deserved, and for that, Roen would forever feel indebted to Shael. She honestly didn’t know how that could be rectified.

Which brought her attention back to the man laying on the bed in front of her, clearly in pain though not wholly conscious. His countenance had yet to relax from its tight grimace, and often he let out a moan of pain. Roen had given him his tinctures and every few bells, sat him up, tried to get some fluids down without him choking, so his body didn’t become completely depleted. She wiped him off with a wet cloth now and then to cool his fever, but the heat beneath his skin would not relent.

"He's sick so ya don' need much doin'. Just make sure he don' move on tae the great stream, yeah?"

Roen had not seen Shael in over two years. And for the past year, she had been writing letters and leaving missives for the highlander at her usual haunts. But there had been no answers. Then suddenly, the smuggler shows up out of nowhere and asks her to nurse her ailing friend. 

"He's not the most friendly o' folk, and when he wakes up, ya may want tae be armed."

It wasn’t a surprise that an acquaintance of Shael would show aggressive proclivities, but the male didn’t look like he hailed from Gyr Abania. And if the Higan letters she spied on Brick’s notes were any indication, both the xaela and the hyur had spent some time in the Far East. 

So was it true then that Shael too had spent some time there in the past few years? Roen had heard rumors of a red haired woman sporting a magitek gun in Kugane, but mentions of such foreigners were commonplace in the port city. And Roen was first to admit, at the time, she herself was too busy with personal affairs of her own to be on the lookout for an old friend.

But now that she was back in Eorzea and gave herself a reprieve from her travels to attend to some mundane business – much to the delight of her accountant – her thoughts had strayed more than once to her past acquaintances. And once the news of her partner Shooey’s death reached Roen’s ears, she had reached out to Shael in all the ways she could conceive of, only to be met with silence.

For as long as Roen had known Shael, the highlander had Shooey by her side. And the fact that she had disappeared from the face of Eorzea right after his passing, it worried Roen. Her resurfacing brought much relief, but now also many questions.

Just who are you? Roen asked silently, looking at the ill hyur next to her. The fact that Shael finally made herself known, just to ask for help in taking care of this man, meant something. It did not escape Roen’s notice that Shael looked relaxed around Brick, and very much intent on keeping Anchor alive. Roen could see the two had a significant place in her friend’s new life.

A small smile found its way to Roen’s lips. She was glad. She knew all too well how losing someone so important could tear a part of their heart out, and how difficult it was to move forward after. To find the next reason to keep going. 

Glancing at the groaning man next to her, it looked like Shael had done just that. Roen exhaled and stood, walking to the head of the bed to lift him up for his next helping of water. 

She had cost Shael someone very dear to her before, and she could never repeat that mistake again. So if it was left to her to feed this stranger water, wipe him down, and clean up his bile until he woke, then so be it.

[shaelstormchild]

Out of Reach

While Shael would be the last one to boast about knowing anything related to healing, her proficiency in magitek was something she took pride in. So, it stung her ego to admit that she needed Marius’ help – an Imperial soldier of all people – to figure out what was going on with Saltborn. Shael had the tech to gather all the data, but not much of the know how's on the interpretation of it, in relation to the hyur’s current coma.

Nabi had been the one to monitor Saltborn’s ongoing ailment and communicate with Marius with the device that the Imperial had given them. But in teaching Nabi on how to operate the tech along the way, Shael was picking up knowledge on what various readings meant. 

So, when the scan after exiting the lighthouse revealed Saltborn’s entire body lit in bright orange, with angry red blotches pulsing in various areas, Shael’s first thought was to bring him to Nabi at all costs. It looked critical, and if something dire happened to the Confederate and Nabi was not there to help him, the xaela would never forgive herself. And Shael couldn’t have that. 

But their linkpearls were fried during their excursion into an underground cavern heavily saturated with corrupt aether and crystallized zombies to boot, and the alarm that had since been raised by Maelstrom at the unauthorized intrusion into Pharos Sirius had made immediate departure out of Western Noscea too risky. 

One small measure of comfort was that Marius was able to analyze the data and reassure her that Saltborn was in no danger of dying any time soon. He was suffering from aether sickness, possibly triggered by an overexposure in the lighthouse. Brick had already tried to comfort Shael in telling her what she already knew – that she couldn’t have stopped the midlander from taking on this mission – but she still blamed herself for letting it happen. In Nabi’s absence, she was supposed to ensure his safety through this. 

It was only with Brick’s aid that they were able to contact a chirurgeon in Moraby, and with Shael’s knowledge of the area near Swiftperch, she was able to smuggle Saltborn’s unconscious body out. They couldn’t go directly to Mist, they had to avoid all areas that had Maelstrom patrol gating the passage. But at least, Saltborn was in no immediate danger. He wasn’t well, by any means, but he would eventually come out of this aether sickness.

And that was the same news that the chirurgeon gave her once she reached Moraby. There wasn’t anything he could do, other than provide medicine for pain and nausea, and hydrate the man. It was up to the hyur to come out of it.

Shael was certain that Nabi would be able to do something more, the lass always had an inexplicable effect on Saltborn. But her messages sent by courier to their place of lodging in Mist came back unanswered. She nor Ghoa was there.

Had they gone back to the Nylor mansion? Hells… without the pearls, how am I s’pose to know if they are alright? 

Then Shael remembered. She smacked herself on the forehead before rising from the table, retrieving Saltborn’s pack to rummage through it. She had given him and a pearl to Nabi! Except his was put in a lined pouch to protect it from his own corrupt aether. So, by all rights, it should have been protected from the lighthouse too.

Shael held up the pearl, and with lips pressed together with hope, she placed it into her ear, calling out into the aether. “Nabi?” She waited. There was no answer. “Nabi,” she called again. “It’s Shael.”

But rather than a voice coming through the pearl, Shael felt something else. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise, just an instant before a pulse washed through the room. She recognized it, it was a much weaker version of the forceful push of aether that Saltborn occasionally manifested in times of need. That version could have thrown her across the room.

Shael immediately spun around, eyes wide on Anchor. One hand went to his forehead, and while it felt still warmer than his usual temperature, it was noticeably less than what it had run the sun before. She pried his closed lids open and blinked when she saw his iris shimmer gold. Not the usual amber of his corruption, but gold… like Nabi’s. What in hells…

Without hesitation, she snatched up the scanner. And what she saw, she had never seen in any previous images before. There was a different color, lighter, less angry, but rather a soothing iridescence, that was rippling through his entire silhouette. But as soon as she saw it, the effect began to fade, as if whatever triggered the process was already over.

Shael stared at the image that was left behind. The angry red hue that had spotched over various parts of his body was gone, and the orange that had filled his entire frame was cooling back to yellow, leaving remnants behind where it hadn’t been before. But mostly, things were returning back to how it had been before the lighthouse.

This had to have been Nabi. Shael couldn’t explain it any other way. But how could the xaela affect Saltborn without actually being present? Unless this was something entirely on his part. He had been around Nabi long enough, had one affected the other? She glanced down to the scanner to note the data that was already being sent to Marius, and for a second she considered stopping it. But short of destroying the device, there was no other way. Besides, the man probably could give more insight on the matter. They had all trusted him thus far…

But there was still no answer over the pearl. Shael’s finger rested lightly over it as if that would beckon the other to answer. But her scowl grew darker the longer the silence went on. Shael shoved the scanner back into her pack and strode quickly out the door to find Brick. They couldn’t sit around any longer. Something had happened to Nabi and Ghoa and she needed to figure out what.

[afreesworn]

"I wanted tae see if ya knew anythin' about any slave traders on the eastern part o' the sea. Thavnair, mayhap? Or somewhere in between them and Hingashi?" Shael made a vague gestures into the air. "It don' have tae be recent. It be years past."

The blonde's grin did not falter, though his brow rose. After a pause, Tal rolled his shoulders, withdrawing back to his chair with movements like a lazy cat stretching in the sun. “There’s been run-ins. I won’t deny. Though we’ve had to move… carefully… when confronting them.” The pleasant tone cracked on the word, taste salted and bitter. “On this isle we can end them as needed with the Admiral’s backing. Across in those sands and seas… well, we must dance to their jig.”

Anchor rubbed the bridge of his nose, his brows pulling together with a slow intake of breath, "Tae narrow it, mayhap one more prominent fifteen cycles or such back. One that, mayhap gone quiet seven before."

A wash of calm and soft determination settled upon Tal's visage and pose as he swayed his head gently in thought, showing a glimmer as to perhaps deserving of his rank. “Or such? Many ceased sixteen cycles back, a great storm saw to that. Though adding in the seven... “ He took a sharp breath as his gaze cycles over all four. “That would limit… you don’t seem the type to want to go into business with such heathens, so let me think a while. Or better, let me consult. My memory isn’t as fine as the written word and the Limsan paper adores gossip.”

[afreesworn]

3: Muster

“Seriously? Her?”

Shael’s incredulous question was probably on everyone’s minds, they were just not giving voice to it. At least, that was what Nabi assumed. But as silence started to settle in rather awkwardly amongst them all, Nabi was starting to question her own idea.

It was a strange notion to begin with, that this extra credit club— it was a nice way of saying detention class — showcase their own talents with an act in the spring festival. It was teacher Batu’s idea, to draw more attention to their strategy based dice game that, surprisingly, had captured the interest of everyone in the group. While it was a learning curve for everyone, since they started this exercise, everyone who had rolled up a character began to attend the after school sessions faithfully. Even Ghoa, who feigned disinterest at the start, started to show up with her own personalized jeweled dice with a decorated case for it, that even had her own initials carved into it.

“What? If I am going to play, I am going to play in style,” the Mankhad purred. “I know these beauties will bring me luck.”

Shael rolled her eyes at her, but Nabi caught her arching her brows when Ghoa’s first few rolls were in the high teens. A few days later, Shael too showed up with her own set of steel etched dice, that she proudly told Nabi she won in a game.

Jude only snorted his disdain at the notion of spending any money on something they were forced to do for school credit, but when the game began, Nabi noticed his intense concentration and focus. He wanted to win, and was not shy about pointing out errors that others were making.

He was the first to scoff at Nabi when she consciously made a decision that didn’t favor the party. “But… my character likes animals! She wouldn’t want them hurt!” Nabi explained. Surprisingly, she expected more derision from him, but when their teacher gave her extra points for staying faithful to one of her character “traits”, everyone took note, reviewing their own character’s flaws and inclinations. Jude said nothing else on the matter, and Ghoa started to make extra effort in bringing to life her own character’s lively persona. 

Nabi couldn’t say the party’s quest went smoothly always; it was a mixed bag of mistakes, hard-earned lessons, and surprises. But when they achieved victory over an opponent while also learning more about each other’s characters, none could deny the air of satisfaction that lifted them all.

Except Pjel. The viera maintained her stoic silence. She made her moves on the board without any fanfare, and her character being mute, she stuck to that trait religiously. She never spoke a word, in character or out. But her rolls were impeccable and she was fearless in battle. There was no doubt that the group could not have succeeded without her.

Nabi was still unsure her reason for being in detention, whether she missed classes, had a failing grade, or if it was for other disciplinary reasons. Every time she tried to strike up a conversation with Pjel, she was just met with silence and a blank stare.

So when teacher Batu put on the group their next task, to put together an act at the spring festival, everyone stared at him dumbfounded. Ghoa laughed bemusedly, while Shael rolled her eyes again. Jude muttered and Pjel, as usual, said nothing on the matter.  But once the session was over and their teacher left them to their own devices, protests and gripes began to rumble amongst them.

That’s when Nabi injected the idea about performing a song. 

“What… like a band?” Shael snorted out loud. 

“Wh-why not?” Nabi blinked, eyes wide. “You play in a band, the bass guitar right?”

The Highlander immediately narrowed her eyes, as if warning not to share too much. “Yeah well… we broke up a few months back.”

“A ridiculous idea,” Ghoa hummed. “I can’t imagine doing death metal or whatever you call music.”

“You have a lovely singing voice, Ghoa!” Nabi quickly interjected before Shael retorted back at the Mankhad. “I heard you at the last Starlight festival.”

“Oh… that!” Ghoa waved her off with a chuckle, but her smile widened. “That wasn’t even my best. You should see some of my posts on--”

“Yer actually serious,” Shael cut her off, staring at Nabi. “Ya can’t just wave yer hand and put a band together. Okay so ya got a bass and singer. Ya need drums and lead guitar and--”

Shael was interrupted yet again when sounds of tapping drew all of their attention. Pjel was tapping her feet and gloved hands were percussing over the edge of the table. And as they all stared in disbelief, the viera proceeded to slap and bang on the wooden table, the plastic chair and the floor with her hands and feet. And the rhythm that was starting to fill the room, it made Nabi grin horn to horn.

“Seriously? Her?”

Nabi shrugged exaggeratedly at Shael, looking both surprised and delighted. “We have… our drummer!” She laughed with a sweep of her hand at Pjel. 

“Pfttt.” Shael threw her hands in the air. “Well, none o’ that be of any use unless ya got a lead guitar.” 

Nabi chewed her lips and started to look around the room. 

“Well, no way we can count on him,” Ghoa groaned, rolling her eyes at the door. Jude had already left, he never lingered long after these sessions were over. Nabi knew not where he had to go, but he always left in a hurry. “Besides, I doubt the likes of him knows a thing about carrying a tune or holding anything other than a knife or a bottle of booze.”

“The idea was ridiculous, anyroad,” Shael added, gathering her bag. “No way we can muster a band together.” She tutted with a frown. “It’s just one of teacher’s crazy ideas. Again.” She started out the door.

Nabi sighed, her shoulders sinking. And as everyone else started to leave the classroom, she hurriedly picked up her own books and followed. 

But the idea refused to leave her.