#ffxiv rp story

[kellachfromthewoods]

What have you been doing lately?

I saw the match between the Second Azuro and Famed Mimic Gogo.

I thought I was the only mimic alive. I'm not. I thought the skills were innate. They can be learned. Self-learned from what I'm seeing because Gogo did not look like someone who'd seen actual combat as himself.

The abilities he used... the ones he learned. High level magic. The kind I can't even cast while miming. I've got work to do.

Maybe accepting my limitations with magic, refusing to ask myself why I wasn't able to cast was wrong. After all, if I can cast Blue Magic, why can't I cast actual magic? Seems like a simple question yet I never asked it of myself. Even if I were to learn just Cure or Fire/Ice/Thunder, it would still be better than now.

Thing is, looking back since I have a lot more time being an assistant to Eamont in healing down in or near Gridania (it helps that I can mime his spells and maybe hold angry patients down), I've never really used my own power. When I first donned the mask and the leathers, I was drawing upon the stories of my people - more specifically Kechire Hunter, the first man (we later learned she was actually a woman but I didn't know it at the time) to be exiled by the Elements for mounting a hunting expedition outside of the prescribed times to slay a massive coeurl that'd gotten taste for the townsfolk and farmfolk.

She gave me that power, and as I grew into my own person, maybe I lost sight that any power outside my own body is not my own. Rather, I should say that I forgot it was, since I made up outright ludicrous alternate egos and drew power from these.

In the end, did I ever grow up from that bedridden kid who wanted to become a hero? I'm still playing at it today, with the people I've read about in these books.

Now that I've travelled the world, that I've experienced so much... Is it still responsible for me to play?

...

Yes. Especially since my playground has expanded so much. I'm not shackled to the stories of my people. I've learned of the legendary Dragoons of Ishgard, including the story of Kain, who abandoned duty for honor. Or Mog, the only moogle to ever simply carry the name Mog and who had mastered the Dragoon skillset without even encountering Ishgard? Palom and Porom, who at the age of 5 were sent to help on a journey to save the world. Tales from the Far East about a summoner, a black mage puppeteer and a plucky thief going on a pilgrimage.

How many of the stories are true? The question is irrelevant. It's what they inspire that matters. At the end of the day, it's all about doing the right thing, and doing what you can.

Besides, if I've ever had good ideas anywhere, it's fashion. Drawing power from the tales of the past and if I ever somehow get the Echo, maybe even heroes from the future? Stories of other shards? Who knows?

Either way, I think I just heard someone yell about their arm being broken, so I suppose I'm gonna have to stop writing this and start wrenching it in place before Eamont lets the healing spell loose.

[coldshrugs]

countdown to dawntrail - io laithe

our song of hope, she dances on the wind higher, oh, higher

individual posts: ARR • HW • SB • SHB • ENW • DT

[wanderersofeorzea]

LF More FFXIV RP Blogs Hey there, it's one of those posts again asking to like, reblog, comment, or whatever it is peeps ask for(I seriously don't remember) to find more rp blogs to follow, because as much as I love seeing the same four people on my dash, they need a hand!

Looking to follow... - Peeps talking about their character(s). - Sharing solo character(s) writings. - Sharing roleplays. - Prompts & asks. - Screenshots & art.

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

❗️(exclamation point) - What was the scariest moment of your character’s life? Does it still affect them? (Niqesse de Nox!)

Red Emoji OC Asks

Thank you so much for the ask!

She shacks at the memory. "It's been quite some time now since this happened, but I will never forget the feeling, the moment before I died." Niqesse takes a deep breath before she continues.

"Before getting involved in the Dragonsong War I was on the hunt for some forbidden scrolls. I heard a few rumors that in a buried frozen ruin were a well filled library with magical artifacts and spell scrolls. They said that a mad mage living there, but it has been over a hundred years since anyone had seen him. Still it was better save than sorry to get a helping hand, so I went with a friend there, Völundr. Huge elezen with an axe, he towers over me and build like a berserker. I mean he is one, really thought we were perfect for the job, anyway. We went there and found trouble, the mage was still alive and had two voidsent with him. Succubi. Sadly my friend got charmed and I didn't notice right away. Suddenly I saw his giant axe swinging at me. I didn't feel the cut anymore, I assume the shock was greater at this point. Later on I got told that he and Wrath cleaned out the ruin and brought me back with some twisted ritual. We don't talk about it, because it really hurts Völundr that he lost control and harmed a friend, as for Wrath he won't tell me what they did to bring me back.

So yea, ever since I am frightened by great axes. Warriors, please stay away from me, thanks."

[marshalforgotten]

𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸, everyone!

Do you like monkeys? How about one who has never shown her true face for thousands of years and suffers from amnesia? Well then, do I have the blog for you!

Independent lmk au-based Red Horse Monkey/Marshal Ma! Please read the rules and about before following.

[thebrumeknight-ffxiv]

"I'll get you out of here, I promise." - "Hey.. wake up." - "I... promised."

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 6:  Fluidity

Prompt 6: Halcyon - FFxiv Write 2024 Characters:  Gilvain Voclair, mentions of Vyith @guttergodsknife

His past breathed peace into his mind .  Memories of days gone by on sea shores painted in twilight’s glorious hues haunted him.  The sky in his mind did not quite match the one he looked at now.  The chemical makeup of the atmosphere of Etheirys varied from that of his own world. He recalled brighter skies, hues so vibrant one might think an artist tipped over his paint cans. 

Etheirys struck him as dull. 

Gilvain stretched his legs out, toes flexing in his long boots then relaxing once more.  A fish flittered past in the stream he lounged next to, drawing his gaze and the skimming of his fingers over the glossy surface of the water.  

Even the water here failed to enchant him. The viscous fluid he remembered reflected blue and green so vivid one might think of liquid sapphire or emerald.  Great birds waded through the ponds and rivers glistening with droplets splashed up by their rambunctious method of fishing. Their feathers arced rainbows through the air with the dip and bob of their plumed heads and broad wings, chasing the myriad fish whose scales glinted like diamonds in their wriggle to escape snapping beaks.

A squawk nearby drew Gilvain’s golden gaze.  The plain brown bird stared back at him across the stream.  He sighed and flicked water in the little bird’s direction. Stubby wings flared to either side in protest, spindly feet dancing across the slippery rocks.  The poor thing nearly fell in.  And yet no amusement tickled inside his chest.

He longed for his own world, for his family, for the Great Library and all the wonders it housed.  The pleasure he once found in shifting between worlds, sliding along the threads of time, vacated his heart the day he returned home to find ash and ruin, to find not a soul alive and his home nothing but char and smoke.  There had to be others out there still, more than he had the skill to ride the threads of space and time, but in all of his searching, Gilvain found no one else like him.

“Why not go back?”  The pale viera’s face rippled on the stream’s surface.  The same viera he had crossed paths with days ago and saw him as nothing more than a stranger.  Gilvain sucked in a breath and extended a hand toward the frail image. His memory, no longer Vyith’s by the proof of damage the viera had showed him. Tore him out like he was something toxic in his system.

“Visiting the past does not bring them back.  A mere bandage that burns the soul knowing what I do.”  Gilvain’s head tipped, gaze softening a touch. His lips formed the words even now. “Would you be satisfied with memories alone if you could find a way to undo the Endsinger’s song?”

His hand dashed through the water, scattering the image of Vyith and banishing the memory.  The reminder of those sweet moments he did not need now.  Letting his guard down proved foolish and a mistake he intended to never make again.  Love tore holes in one’s soul, and his was tattered enough.

[argentrenard]

cash - for the single-word fic prompt!

It shouldn't have had to come to this point. He shouldn't be in this position.

Argent Renard was Bertrand Blandevornne this evening (of the Burgandy Blandevornnes) and he was losing every high-stakes Triple Triad game he had played. Bertrand was a noble persona he had created, a man who owned a moderate fortune, wore hand-me-down everything from an ancient house that had lost its prestige over the years, and lived in a dilapidated mansion in Ishgard. A recently created false identity, he had not used him yet in any high-profile cons, thus he was in the early stages of building the alias' history. Eventually, once he reached Bertrand's peak reputation, he most likely would pursue a large score and then be forced to burn the boarish bastard and retire his reputation up on the shelf where all his created characters went. For now Bertrand needed to appear as a somewhat bumbling noble with more money than sense.

The difficult part he had to deal with now was tonight showcased him as a bit more bumbling than intended, and he was further coming across as having a lot less sense than the norm. He'd brought a sizeable sum to the tables at the Saucer tonight, at least 4 million gil, his winnings from a recent lucrative operation. Yet, he had only about 200,000 left. His reserves should never have gotten this low, he should have stepped away as soon as he'd lost half, but he had been feeling particularly reckless this evening. It was one of those sunsets that had spurred him to risk it all. He was sure (positive, in his gut) that something special was going to happen tonight.

So he'd kept going. He'd lost, then lost again. He nursed the remains of his now watered-down whiskey, adjusting the red ascot at his neck, and looked at his cards. Sitting in his stolen and shabby Ishgardian tailored coat and vest, at least he also looked the part of a noble who had fallen on hard times. It was just a shame that the hard times were actually accurate and not at all a scam. If word spread he had been spotted losing vast quantities of money at the Saucer, that could help him appear as bait to someone he might want to entice, but actually losing all his gil wasn't usually part of the plan.

So he mused, chewed his lip, and thought about the others at the table while he waited for the hand to play out. He'd lost what, ten times now or so? The dealer was certainly flirting with him, but she wasn't giving him any advantage. The Ul'duh merchant on his left and the Limsa captain on his right all had won at least a few rounds. They kept giving him sidelong glances of pitty. That was good for 'Bertrand's' image, but it still rankled a little bit.

He must have really pissed off the Weaver this time. He grunted. At least he was used to pissing off Gods and Goddesses.

The captain, a Roegadyn woman, leaned towards him from his right, "No shame comes from heading back home when the seas look rough, friend. Your hull has taken… quite a beating!" She guffawed and gave him a glance that suggested even though she thought he was cute, he had no chance with her.

'Bertrand' laughed, a little sheepishly, as if embarrassed. Argent did not have to strain his acting skills to accomplish this, what with how his luck had actually suffered thus far.

Two hundred thousand left. It would make sense for Bertrand to step away from the table, maybe go find a date to go home with. He'd hoped to pick up the dealer, but while she was nothing but smiles and twinkling eyes for him, she gave that look to all three of her patrons this evening. He had a feeling she was as skilled as he in flattering those she talked to.

The merchant, a Lalafell gentleman with a meticulously maintained goatee, offered some advice without even looking up from his own cards, "Were I you, I would lick my wounds so I could come back for more another time. The house has practically swindled you, my friend," and he too chuckled, placing the back of his hand over his mouth as if this made laughter at Argent's expense more polite.

Why did everyone call you a 'friend' when they sought to insult you?

The noble he was tonight, however, just grinned with them, as if completely unaware he was being mocked and assumed he was in on the joke.

"Well, perhaps… perhaps you're both right but… well it's just gil, to me. I have more than I know what to do with, as my family always said!" He laughed loudly with them, an obnoxious and somewhat buffoonish laugh. Then he went on longer with the laughter, eventually making them uncomfortable so they both quieted and returned to their cards.

"Are you going to stay with me then, and keep me company a little longer, Ser Blandevornne?" the young hyur behind the counter asked him, almost batting her eyelashes.

Argent pursed his lips, and then pushed his chips across the counter. All of them. He made it look like she had won him over with her charm. In reality, he was positive this hand would be the turnaround win he needed. He still had that feeling. A tingling that something magical was about to happen. He'd be going home with a huge win, he could just feel it.

"All in!? My my, Ser, aren't you bold and brave," she sweetly said. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. Instead, he hung his head as if he was blushing.

The cards flipped. Argent stared. It looked like this might be it. First, the merchant lost and clucked his tongue. He'd only bet a small amount this round. Then the captain lost, and she plopped her drink down with a curse. Her wager had been a bit more sizeable this time around.

Then the the final round hit and Argent was practically on the edge of his seat as…

The card flipped over and his fortune was told.

Silence met the table for the span of a few clinks in his glass as the last of the ice settled into the dregs of whiskey.

After a beat, Argent muttered, "I'll… cash out now."

The dealer, chipper no matter the circumstance, brightly said, "Very well, Ser Blandevornne! Here you go, your cash out!"

She slid one chip across the table to him. He looked at it, then looked back to her.

"Keep it," he sighed, and tossed the last chip back to her, along with a wink. He then swept up his glass (which was now mostly whiskey-flavored melted ice), and walked away from the game table.

It wasn't a good night for him, but then again, it wasn't a bad night either. He had experienced much worse, and this evening had only left him broke with no one on his arm. He glanced about at all the patrons, from those clanking around in full armor to those wearing the tiniest of bikinis, and everything in between. Perhaps he could salvage some of the night, at least.

It was only cash, after all, and he should have known it would end up this way. The House wins. The House always wins.

[vivalatora]

"... Your warmth still lingers despite the cold days that followed... And... I scared that's all I have left..." Had so much fun staging these. I'm a sucker for character development and back stories.

[archivumesoterica]

After all these years

When I think your name only a memory

I hear it once more

And I run

Heedless of the danger

That I might see your face

Hear your laughter

And bring you home

[toomannnynames]

Some stuff from another RP!

Postcard version under the hidden part!

[runah-alakah]

Road to Redemption

"You know they say your dead, right?"

"What are you on about now, Shari?"

"I just got back from a supply run... they say you're dead."

Runah sighed heavily from the couch, opening his eyes just enough to stare at the Hyuran woman from the corner of them. He had fallen asleep on the couch again and the state of disuse of his bed hadn't gone unnoticed by his aid.

"Let them talk Shari."

With a grunt as he sat up he swiped the wooden case that contained his cigarillos from the couch beside him. Somehow the small Hyuran woman's gaze felt like it could blast holes in his skin as he set one in his mouth, he didn't even have to light it as the smell alone was enough to begin setting him at ease.

"You're pathetic..."

Shari shook her head, stepping forward and snatching the cigarillo from between his lips before he could even fetch the matches. She retreated a step as Runah slowly rose from the couch, eyes locked clearly onto Shari for what felt like the first time in forever.

"What did you say?"

There was a heavy moment of tension between the two as Shari did her best to hide the quivering in her arms and legs. She took another step back as Runah took one toward her again and again. Shari yelped out as her back and head hit the wall behind her, Runah closed the distance quickly, pinning her up against the wall with his presence alone.

"Look Runah, you've done so much for us and over half of us wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. For that we are forever grateful but I cannot watch you destroy yourself in grief." She reached up, running her hand along some of the scars and tattoos that covered his torso.

"Mind yourself, Shari.."

She nodded and took her hand away from him with a sigh.

"See that's what I mean, your light is fading ever since she-"

She was cut off and cried out as Runah slammed his fist into the wall of the hut, cracking some of the tied together sticks that made up the building.

"Do not! How dare you speak to me this way?! I have bled and drew blood for you, I have killed and lived for you!"

Despite the shaking in her legs increasing she found a strange resolve as Runah's temper flared. She couldn't help but smile and goad him on.

"Come one.. come on come on." Her voice was quiet but she knew he could hear it through his heavy angered breathing. "Do something, Runah. Scream, throw something, hit me like it's my fault if it makes you feel better!" She prayed he wouldn't, but she was willing to risk it if it meant he did something besides sit on the couch and rot. When Runah first came to the village he was full of life, helping others daily with hunting, fishing, building, and clearing the nearby land of monsters. He was something of a hero to them and his word was on par with that of their elder. Though as time went on the village watched him fall into a horrible depression after receiving word that his mate had moved on from him back home.

Runah's glare remained for what felt like a life time before his deep breathing finally calmed him enough to speak without yelling. "They say I'm dead." He reaffirmed to himself before straightening up and grabbing his coat from the stand.

"Dead and defeated."

Runah looked back at Shari for a moment, picking up the twin axes that rest against the wall and sliding them into the retaining loops on his belt. He could have sworn he saw Shari grinning as if she had won some game of chess as he slid his boots on and stepped outside the hut. As the door closed behind him Shari finally let out the breath she had held when he approached her, an excitement as well as a sadness washed over her as she spurred him back out into the world yet further away from her. "Go show'em big guy..."

The sun burned his eyes for a moment, looking over the camp that he had help built during his time aiding the settlement against beast tribes. A few people smiled at him, some waved, and even fewer called out to him excited to see him on his feet but all seemed relieved to have him around.

As he scanned the settlement he took note of the status of things, the wood supply was okay, there seemed to be clean water, but when he checked the meat storage there wasn't as much as he would have liked... and hunt was something he could do.

[talesfromthegameff14]

Prompt #23: On Cloud Nine

Griffons!   It’s been too long since she’s danced with them.  Far, far too long.  It was the right time of year to catch a young one too and tame it.  The hatchlings would be old enough to be easy to feed but young enough to not be too set in their ways.  It was harder to train them than from the egg, but from the egg was a lot easier to lose the chick and a lot harder to train them to hunt and fly.  Of course, hunting them now had the problem of having to deal with the parents.  But, that was part of the fun!  Nothing was as thrilling as dropping down onto a griffin’s back to force them to the ground. 

“You’re insane.”, Lokh said for at least the tenth time since they started out for the cliffs outside Gyr Abania this morning.  “Uhhuh, and that’s why you love me.”, Mina grins at him before standing on tippy toe to plant a kiss on his cheek.  A put upon groan and an eyeroll that didn’t match his smile was Lokh’s response, tone both worried and playful, “You’re going to get us killed.”  “Nahh, Cethin already agreed to the hunt.  He’s looking forward to it even when we spoke last night.”  “That does not make me feel any better.” “It should, your ass won’t die!”  A swat at Mina’s rear that she deftly dodges, “I like yours better.” “Good, watch my back then.”  “I’m alvays vatching your back..” “I don’t mean my backside, Lokh.”  

A soft chuckle and the man falls silent, looking up at the sky with a furrowed brow.  Griffons.  Right.  “I don’t see any.” “It’s nap time for them.  We’ll see them soon enough.  Wait down here, I’ll get ‘em out of the nest, you grab the hatchling.” “I vould feel better if I vas the bait.” “Trust me darlin’, you can’t do what I can as bait.” “I vouldn’t be so sure of that.” “I am, you’ll see.” A much put upon sigh and a grunt, Lokh reaching out to pull Mina close.  “You vill be careful.” A protest came to her lips until Mina looked up and saw the worry lurking in his silver eyes and her expression softened and she let herself be drawn in close against his chest.  “I’ll be careful, I promise.”   The two miqo’te stared at each other for a long moment, words were still hard between them sometimes.  Instead they let their eyes speak for each other and then the tender kiss that had the promise of fire lingering in it that followed.  “Good.  Now go get your chicken.”  “Chicken?!?  Lokh, it’s a griffon not a chicken.”  “Eh, one bird is like another.  Chicken, griffon, they sound the same.”, Lokh trying to keep from laughing as he teased. A swat to his tail with her own, Mina giving Lokh a playful glare as she pulled away.  “Not even close.  If you or Cethin tries to eat my griffon, I’ll skin you both.”  A whispery voice in both their minds answers, ”You promised me a meal, kitten.” “Yes, but not my griffon! You’ll get your meal soon, Cethin.  I did promise.  But I’d better hurry, or they will wake up before I get there.”  And with that the Seeker was off and running, up the cliff that had no visible path but the one that her former tribe knew by heart.  It was time to fly! 

Lokh belongs to @realmoffantasy

[blackbirdffxiv]

❝​🇸​​🇴​​🇲​​🇪​​🇹​​🇮​​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇮​ ​🇼​​🇴​​🇳​​🇩​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇮​​🇫​ ​🇭​​🇪​​🇷​ ​🇭​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​​🇹​ ​🇼​​🇦​​🇸​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇹​ ​🇦​​🇱​​🇱​.❝

(Still recovering from sicc, so didn't go too detailed with this, but have sad feels and reminiscing courtesy of a snippet from an RP I'm in with Ellie)

[marshalforgotten]

Λ PΣӨPᄂΣ ᄂӨПG FӨЯGӨƬƬΣП,

- Λ ƧƬӨЯY ᄂΣFƬ ЦПƧPӨKΣП

- ᄂӨƧƬ IП ƬIMΣ

YӨЦ ЩIᄂᄂ FIПD IƬ ΉΣЯΣ

Independent lmk au based rp blog for the celestial baboon mentioned in journey to the west who is also Marshal Ma. Combines both various Chinese and African myths. Please read the the rules before following.

[phyinalphantasy]

16. Third-Rate

“You’re a third rate archer!” Helna said with a disgusted sneer. “I said it, you’re a third-rate archer!” She repeated as if to get under Juri’s skin. “I’m not!’ Juri argued back, trying to hold back her emotions.

Juri clenched her fists, her hand straining “Fine, let’s settle this once and for all!” she said with her voice steady and eyes blazing with determination.

Helna smirked, clearly enjoying the prospect of a challenge “Very well, We’ll use the top of that tree as a target. Let’s see if you can hit it.,” she said pointing to a distant tree, its trunk barely visible with thick foliage.

Juri took a deep breath, calming her racing heart. She notched an arrow and drew her drawstring back, focusing all her energy on hitting the tree. The arrow fell with a hard thud, not even making it to its destination.

Juri’s heart sank as the arrow fell short. Trying to hide her disappointment from Helna. She notched another arrow, making another attempt. Her hands were shaking slightly from the pressure. “I won’t miss this time,” She thought to herself.

Helna crossed her arms, with a smug look on her face. “Go ahead, prove me wrong.”

She released the arrow, but instead of hitting the tree, it veered off course and struck a wasp nest hidden amongst the foliage.

The nest shook violently, and within moments, a swarm of angry wasps erupted, buzzing furiously. Juri’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of the wasps descending.

Helna’s smirk vanished, replaced with panic “Run!” as she turned around to flee.

Juri sprinted after Helna, the sound of the angry swarm growing louder behind them. They dashed through the dense jungle, dodging branches and leaping over roots, the wasps hot on their heels.

After what felt like an eternity, they found a small clearing, they found a small clearing, the wasps gradually losing interest in them. Both girls collapsed to the ground, trying to catch their breath.

Helna glared at Juri, but with a hint of begrudging respect. “I guess you know how to make things interesting.” Helna said breathlessly.

Juri, still catching her breath, managed a weak smile. “Guess I’m not a third-rate archer after all.”