#riversmeet

[littlemisspractical]

Drawn at the request of my wife, two NPCs from a game I ran, her chracter's adpotive siblings. Someone's about to have a really bad day ... and it isn't these two XD

[sheepwithspecs]

some pics of the Coerthas Western Highlands I took for my own reference and thought I'd share

[sunshinegearbox]

[junglelaz]

Where the two rivers meet and dance together without mixing - the Amazon river and the Rio Negro, in Brazil. This is where I lost my previous drone. 😅 #brazil #brasil #amazonas #travelbrazil #amazonriver #rionegro #riversmeet #manaus #jungleboy #junglelaz #LASZLO #drone #dronephotography #dronephoto https://www.instagram.com/p/CqOQQB9u-xp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lavampira]

ngl clicking on alphinaud and estinien between missions for their commentary is one of the highlights of early heavensward

[crystal-verse]

resting in the remains of camp riversmeet

[sjofn-lofnsdottr]

Junelezen 12: Aetheryte

One of my very favorite spots in Western Coerthas Highlands is where the ruins of Camp Riversmeet is.

The Gates of Judgment were closed during most of Dusk's life before the Calamity; they happened to slam shut while his family was visiting his paternal grandparents outside of Ishgard. Even though this was the excuse his parents used for why they deserted moved to Gridania, and Coerthas was generally a dangerous place to wander off the roads, that didn't stop them from visiting Bernon's parents fairly regularly. They were stationed in quite a few different places over the years, and Camp Riversmeet was one of them, so Dusk remembers what it was like before.

He finds the aetheryte there, frozen mid-explosion as the Calamity changed Coerthas forever, absolutely fascinating to look at. He visits the spot every now and again, he's painted it, and he's taken Farron to see it. It's not morbid for him, although he'd understand if someone thought it was. He can't fully explain why this symbol of how everything changed speaks to him the way it seems to, how it makes him feel nostalgic but not sad. Luckily, he doesn't really feel a need to explain. It just is what it is.

[paintedscales]

Sightseeing Log entry #82 :: Camp Riversmeet

"I recall this location as a key military outpost for Temple Knights and Dragoons alike. The location was said to have been strategic... Hmph...if only that strategy foresaw the coming of the Calamity what destroyed it... I was pulled from my thoughts when Nomin asked me why no one came by to repair the aetheryte. 'Tis not so easy...surely she knows that just as well as I... Though she groused about traveling the land with no easy aetheryte to attune to that did not just twist and hum over Falcon's Nest."

Extras:

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 24. Bar (Another Take) Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Aymeric de Borel Rating: Teen Summary: Zoissette catches Aymeric up on everything he's missed, including telling him about her new relationship. Notes: WoL|Sette timeline. I realised I never established the earring in her WoL timeline and well

Aymeric was one of the first people Zoissette went to visit after she returned from the First. He had been a stalwart ally of the Scions. They needed to talk about the developing situation in Garlemald, probably, since that would definitely affect Ishgard. He was a dear friend of hers. Their courtship may have fallen apart, but it had made for a stronger bond between the two, not a lesser one.

And also she simply had to tell him the news.

She showed off her new earring to her, two black carnations, with two little pearls dangling from them on silvery chains. It was beautiful, and was now her most precious possession.

"A symbol," she said. "Of Y'shtola and I dedicating ourselves to be bonded."

"Congratulations," he said warmly. "You two deserve each other, and deserve the world. I couldn't be happier for you."

"It is definitely the best relationship I have ever had," said Zoissette, looking down and fiddling her fingers together. "She has been with me for so many years, and I admire so much about her... and she feels much the same of me. I hope you do not find it offensive for me to say so."

"While you do indeed have my heartfelt congratulations and I offer you my assurance that I share your outlook, that your relationship with that woman is the best thing that I think has ever happened to you, I do want to say... best relationship? That is a terribly low bar to clear given your history, Sette. And I shall not take offense if you will return the favor."

"I feel like I should take some offense on your behalf! We were good together. Not great, but... it was nice, for a time."

"Ah yes," he said, dryly. "The very image of two upright Ishgardian citizens, courting as the Holy See claimed Halone intended. Keeping each other carefully at arms length, coquettishly fluttering our eyelashes across the table at one another. Never revealing our true feelings, playing our proper roles, showing up to balls and dancing terribly."

"Sharing lovely meals, talking about our respective interests-"

"While not being truly interested in said interests I am sorry Lady Vauban but I could not keep up with half your discussions on mathematics or aetherology."

"-nor I on the particulars of terrible High House rivalries and petty politics but we did not dance that terribly."

"Sette I did not know how to tell you this at the time, but all of the dances you knew were horrifically out of date."

"Oh."

"Coerthan, I believe? From perhaps a few dozen years ago?"

"... Riversmeet was not exactly avant-garde."

"Rearguard even perhaps."

"You certainly had no complaints about my rear. Or my oral technique."

"If there is one regret I have about the ending of our courtship, it is the loss of that talented tongue. I can only hope that I learned something from the experience that I may pass on to my next partner."

Zoissette smiled smugly at him.

"I do not miss how you get when you are insufferably correct on a matter, though."

"Of course not, since it never happens that I am wrong."

"Telling lies in Halon's city? I cannot believe you."

Zoissette just hummed smugly at him, and after a moment, they both broke into laughter.

"Seriously though. Back to the matter at hand, which is this... congratulations. I can think of no union that could be any more blessed in the eyes of the Fury, and I hope I can look forward to an invitation to the bonding ceremony, whatsoever form it takes, and wherever it shall occur."

Zoissette sighed. "Of course, though I do not know yet. Something which I need to talk to her about. We have very different backgrounds, I am certain we will have very different ideas on what is right and proper. I am sure she knows enough about how we do things in Ishgard, but I have precious little idea about the traditions and culture of the Jaguar tribe. Or she may even want to follow the rites of the Night's Blessed. Or perhaps something else altogether. I just do not know."

"Night's Blessed?"

"A community that took her in on the First."

"Ah. I see." Aymeric hummed thoughtfully. "Well, this actually does explain much about a missive that preceded you by mere bells."

"Oh?"

"Well, I was not going to mention it. Discretion being the better part and all that, you know. But I think you two should, in fact, have that conversation. Rather sooner than later. And perhaps with each other instead of through me."

"...Aymeric?"

"You see, I have in my possession a latter from one Lady Y'shtola Rhul, asking me for advice."

"What sort of advice?"

Aymeric smiled at Zoissette, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Advice on the proper way to go about courting one Ser Zoissette Vauban, in accordance with the traditions and manner of a proper Ishgardian noble who wishes to make a good impression, both upon the lady and her family. Along with any, shall we say, hints I might be able to provide on said noblewoman's preferences in the same."

Zoissette blinked at him, several times, and her mouth hung slightly open, and Aymeric laughed.

"Ah, now that is a rare sight, and one which I rather enjoy more," said Aymeric. "Zoissette Vauban, flummoxed."

She snapped her jaw shut, frowned, and crossed her arms at him, sticking her nose in the air, but that only caused him to laugh more. And then laugh even more when he noticed the twitch of the side of her mouth as she valiantly resisted joining in.

Zoissette sniffed in mock disdain, but then dropped the act. "She really asked for that?"

"Indeed," said Aymeric. "I believe she not only takes this most seriously, but if I had to guess - and to be clear, I am guessing - I think she is doing this for your benefit, Sette."

He reached over, and took one of her hands, clasping it in his, and he smiled warmly at her. "And if I had any doubts that she deserved you, I think such a gesture would dash them to nothingness. I do not know her as well as you, of course, but we did interact much, from the Shiva matter all the way up to the Alexander incident. She never minced her words, or made any pretense at her lack of tolerance for those parts of Ishgard she disdained. I still recall her choice words over finding out about the Witchdrop, and her sharp opinions on the old system of trial by combat.

"And yet, she is willing to take up at least some of our traditions. For you."

Zoissette felt her eyes water, and not knowing what to say, said nothing, just wiped her face with the back of her free hand. Aymeric pulled her in to a tight hug, and she returned the gesture.

"You are well loved, Zoissette," he said. "And thank you for sharing that with me."

"How could I not?" she sniffled into his shoulder. "You are one of my dearest friends. Thank you, Aymeric."

"Now," he said, breaking the hug, and patting her on the shoulder. "Tell me all about your adventures on the First. I am eager to hear of what our Warrior of Light has been up to."

Smiling, Zoissette walked along with him, and began to tell him the tale of all that had passed, sparing no embellishment as to the Scions' accomplishments, and making sure to fill him in especially on how she had come to appreciate and learn again the depths of one Master Matoya.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 21: Grave

Every month or so, Esredes began his ritual. His brother was kind enough to be capable of supplying him with blue forget-me-nots for the journey. With a bouquet of them tightly wrapped together in his hands, he always started in the city, his path far optimized by now as to how to most quickly hit all the graveyards he needed to visit.

He always started with those his past life knew, and those lucky enough to be buried in the city he knew as he is now, leaving a few of the small, delicate blue flowers on each grave. They were usually fellow knights who perished in combat, even more now since he came back and learned more of who had died. As he stared at each headstone, he always contemplated to himself if they would hate the person he was now, or understand. If he were to guess, they all hated him now. Those who'd lived certainly did. But to him, it didn't matter. He'd decided long before it was good to mourn the person they could've been, or meant to be, if not for the Church. He tended to keep quiet about it to his fellow harriers, but he preferred to keep that hope they were good people at heart. Still, he'd likely never know the true answer. They were long gone, after all.

He spared them the Shiva prayers out of respect, defaulting to his old Halonic ones like a dusty garment being pulled from the back of the closet. He didn't need to break out the Shiva prayers in-city until he came to Ysabel de Vairemont's elegantly adorned gravestone. She'd been a spy and supplier to the very last until she perished while the towers were causing trouble, and so he had to be careful no one saw him laying flowers at her grave or chanting a prayer in Dragonspeak. Finally, he came to his last stop, approaching the graves of his late, former squire's father and knight. The one who took him in after Esredes left. To each he laid down the flowers, said his prayers, and then whispered an "I'm sorry," towards the knight's grave. And then it was off towards the Steps.

He made a stop on the bridge, for every harrier of his who died during the final battle, and even for the knights he witnessed dying. Blue flowers were scattered lightly over the bridge, the wind soon taking them. There was Alais, the Dragoon he brought to their side and always believed in the good in people. Or, since he never found where his grave was, he also had decided in more recent times to begin mourning one of the former Knight Captain he was under out here, where the man had been crushed to death by a dragon in front of him. Esredes had complicated feelings about the man- a once pleasant relationship in which he'd been one of the better Captains he was under turned sour when he attacked and captured him and left him to die even when he pleaded and begged and reasoned. But Esredes decided even he deserved the chance to become better, one that'd never be taken, now. A shame, he was among the more likely to change with the truth.

Esredes proceeded down the bridge. Now he was out to the Highlands for the rest of his mourning routine. It had even more stops out here- over the course of the war, many of their camps had been found and raided and massacred. Stop after stop, Esredes scattered a handful of flowers to decayed, run-down remains of camps with frozen, dried blood littering the ground. Snowcloak, Hemlock, Camp Riversmeet, Gorgane Mills, on and on and on in empty silence until he came to his final stop. Until then, he held a hand to his heart each time, his draconic rosary beads clutched in his hand, and chanted each time: Upon sacred ground Thy love scatters to wind And joins in her Embrace To guide all who are lost And rest in Serenity, eternal

The graveyard at his camp was the final stop. Some of the headstones actually had bodies, some of them were just monumental. Ysayle's was the biggest, of course, but there were so many in this little space it made it hard to navigate. And so the last of his flowers came down to each of these headstones, a chant for each following. And once he was done, he stood there at the entrance to the graveyard in silence, his only companion the wind blowing through his coat.

Esredes shut his eyes. Here at the end, some months he held on, others he did not. And it seemed today was one of those where he fell. The tears began to flow freely, the light sobs he couldn't choke back racking his body as he fell to his knees, hands in his lap clutching the rosary as he felt the weight of each life he could never have saved. It wasn't worth it, a dark part of his mind said to him at this time. You should have let Ishgard die. And then what? Mourn the smoking remains of Ishgard instead, mourn the Ala Mhigans who would continue to die to the Empire without Ishgard's help? Mourn all those in Ishgard who were now his friends, bringing him to this same place? Esredes was notoriously terrible with remembering names. And yet, each and every one of those he knew that perished, their names were burned into his memory, along with their faces and lives. He, most of all, was the living graveyard. And oh, he hated the burden of it. But it was one he'd gladly shelter again and again and again. The mourning turned to hate, hate for all those unworthy who survived, who continued to hurt his and continued to parasitically drain the world of every little drop of nutrient just to satiate their own insecurity. And kneeling among the fallen, Esredes continuously swore to himself, he would kill everyone he had to to prevent even one more gravestone from appearing. To let the rodents die so disease would not spread. There was no other way to prevent his trip from becoming longer, from the name list growing larger, from his own failure to protect and die for them becoming-

For a while, Esredes knelt there and his sobs grew steadily louder. He covered his face, his body shook, but this was something he did alone. Alone, until the chilling emptiness finally settled enough in his bones for him to find the strength to stand. Until he could manage to take steps away from the graveyard and back towards the quiet embrace of his camp, to face the rest of the day.

And next month, it would all happen all over again.

@bastardofvairemont

[chysgoda]

Last Dragoon: Dux Bellorum Part Two

September 03: Free Space

Bel drummed her fingers on the counsel table. The initial meeting and reading of the letters had not taken long. And now they had dispersed. Chochoba and Raya-O-Senna to make sure that there was food for the guests. Dark to speak with the thavnairian weavers that Bel had offered sanctuary. Jaren to see to the safety of the road and organize an escort party. Which left her alone with the letters. The one from the Satrap was boring in all honesty. the envoy had been sent to offer the group of Thavnairians that sheltered on her town passage home. A simple and to the point cover for anyone who could not hear the Song.  

The second letter was just as short but left a hollow feeling in her stomach. 

Dux Bellorum Aliender I have heard the tales of your victory at the Battle of Riversmeet and of how the settlement under your rule thrives. In this time of woe such accomplishments are deserving of no small praise. Now that the damage wrought by my uncle's madness has been repaired, I can turn my eye to the provinces that we have shamefully neglected.  I trust you to see the reason in bringing Eorzea back into the Empire's generous arms. I have sent my legatus Quintus van Cinna to formally present the terms of your governorship and aid in selecting an envoy to return with him to our capitol. I look forward to someday enjoying your hospitality, Dux Bellorum.  In service and glory Nerva Zos Galvus

The sheer audacity of it stunned her. She ground her teeth and clenched a fist. They had heard that there were survivors, and that Nerva Galvus had been among those that had been elsewhere when the reserves of black rose under the palace had exploded. A rather convenient coincidence Bel thought given that in the wake of that Nerva had been the only one with legitimate claim to the throne left standing. 

She drug a hand down her face had he had had any actual success with this tactic of assumption? Perhaps the legatus was here to sweeten the deal, perhaps not. She took in another breath and let it out slowly. Regardless, she had a reputation for adhering to the old rules of hospitality that she did not intend to sully. Here the man out, feed him, give him a bed for the night, and set him back on the road to home. So long as the Quintus upheld the obligations of an envoy and guest he would leave peaceably in the morning.  

She stood, turned to make sure that her drachenmail hung neatly on its armor stand behind her seat, and walked out to meet her guests at the front gate. 

[littlemisspractical]

A looser painting but I like the colours I got here. She's a fun character I need to do more with. She's Chavala, a demigodess of fire and protector of the City of Riversmeet.

[the-woods-call-me]

~~ Fog in Riversmeet ~~

Please click for larger size. =)

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #26: Last

The following is the contents of the last pages written in the journal of Ludo Swiftwind, recovered from Carteneau Flats in the wake of Omega's activation.

DON'T FORGET:

YOU ARE HERE TO RECOVER THE PRIMAL KILLER.

Adeledji's crew estimate its worth at several billion gil; Lolorito will likely pay more (enough to settle debts and then disappear for good)

Keep notes about anything important because something down here is interfering with your short-term memory. For the love of Halone DON'T read anything aloud!

Ashelia M. Riot is your partner and the leader of the Riskbreakers. She is an Ala Mhigan Highlander and she has pink hair, dark brown skin and eyes like desert amethysts (if amethysts could glare at you). You love her very much.

(ask her what the M stands for when you're back)

Don't read anything aloud and don't talk about anything you don't want to have used against you. This sorry piece of scrap sure has a hell of an attitude for something that crash-landed here a few thousand years ago.

COME BACK WITH SOMETHING TO SHOW FOR YOUR EFFORTS OR DON'T COME BACK AT ALL. The Syndicate sniff out blood like a Garlean recruiter; they'll expect you to come back empty-handed.

Still about 250M gil deep in the red but interest is going to be the real ###### to get in front of so do something soon

Determined that this is not a primal killer, more like a primal prison. Asked if it had any primals left and of course it's clammed up.

NEW MISSION (?): Convince it to part with a primal

You are Ludo Swiftwind and you hail from Riversmeet. You became a trader to see the world and you survived the Calamity (most of you did, anyway) and the thing you want most (to go back) isn't going to happen

If you ever forget what Coerthas looked like in the summer you may as well just give up

(just remembered the M stands for Marco.)

You fell in love with Ashe the first time you saw her lost in her own thoughts. Can't remember where you were but she was definitely back in Ala Mhigo and you knew you wanted to take her there for true.

might not make it out might not ᴍꬰʞƐ it out might not

Found records detailing the subjugation of Sephirot, Sophia, and Zurvan (sp?)

See back cover for translations of Allagan phrases

(Maybe if I upload this data onto a tomestone it'll be enough to cover at least the first billion.)

if $exit=1 apologize to Ashe endif

I want to see her again but I fucked somethinꬶ up

You are Ōsamu bas Maevius and you are a stupid little h###-##### who couldn't even hack it in the provinces because it took you six years after you ran away to consider that your mother might have had trauma

she even told you once that she wanted to go home but they wouldn't let her back in, how much clearer could she have been

had the info on the Allag primals directly into my memory, ineꜰꜰicient but got the job done (finally just told it i had enemies i needed to beat and something clicked)

ꞵeautiful battles th0usands of years ago, check combat data logs for ver1f1cation, life and death in ꞵalance, will s4tisfy SYNDICATE LEECHES for maybe 1 year so should run fast

DATA TRANSMISSION BLOCKED SEE FRONT COVER FOR PRIMAL COORDINATES if you can't find them keep going higher

tried to stay in riversmeet but the cold felt too much like home

01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 01100010 01111001 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100

Ꞷ

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 15: Portentous 

of or like a portent. (A sign or omen) 

Character(s): Syren Ligeia (Pre-arr, aged 22/23) Cw:None  Word count: 651 Notes: Pre-calamity for this story! Taking a little bit of liberties with this one–this is kind of my own hc on what happened to Camp Riversmeet during the calamity. For context, Syren was part of the Knights with his father and they were both stationed at Camp Riversmeet. Might go back and edit and add to this later. This is just a rough idea I had and the first thing I thought of when I saw this word. 

The day was unusually hot and while Syren acknowledged it was in the middle of summer, he also knew being in an alpine climate meant the summer heat was pretty forgiving. But not today. He stood at his post, practically scowling at passerbys as he wiped the sweat from his brow–had he not been on duty with his father, he would’ve ditched his Temple Knight armor for something lighter right then and there. Instead however, he was stuck sweating under the unforgiving sun and vaguely wondering if this was some sort of omen. 

“Sy, take a breather,” his father chuckled as he approached with two cups in hand. “You’re scaring everyone away with that scowl of yours.” 

“Haha, very funny.” Syren rolled his eyes and accepted the cup of water. His father gestured for him to sit on the crate behind him to which he did, angling himself just enough to stay in the shade but still able to keep watch. “There’s not that many people here to scare off anyways,” he continued slowly, taking note that the Knights stationed here out numbered the adventurers and merchants for once. “This camp is usually bursting with activity but today is just…quiet, and a little eerie if you ask me.” 

“Indeed,” his father replied somberly. “I suspect it’s largely due to the battle occuring today, at least from what I’ve overheard. The alliance wanted our men and women to join ranks but the Lord Commander turned them down, said that his Knights were needed here in case of a dragon attack.” 

Syren let out a sigh, gazing in his empty cup. “I could hardly blame him for making that choice but I cannot imagine how that will affect our alliance with the rest of Eorzea as a whole.” 

“We’re at war, Syren,” his father patted his shoulder. “Difficult decisions have to be made to put our home and people first.” 

“I know that but–” Syren stopped short as his father’s expression turned stern, a silent warning to drop the subject. The Viera bit his cheek, looking down at his cup as his grip on it tightened. They’ve had this argument before. He didn’t want to go into it again. Not when they were still on their active assignments. After a few moments of silence, Syren muttered an apology but that was quickly drowned out by the growing murmur around them as the sunlight around them began to fade rapidly. 

“Hang on, is that–?” 

“What is that?” 

“Are you seeing this?” 

The Viera stood up abruptly, eyes widening in alarm as he found the source of what everyone was staring at. In the distance of the now cloudy sky was a huge red moon and it was beginning to split open. 

“What’s going on other there?!” 

“We should go see!”

Syren tried to ignore the scattered voices full of curiosity and fear, turning to his father for orders on what they should do but instead, his words died in his throat as something cold hit his cheek. 

“Is that…snow?” 

“It’s still warm out! What’s going on?” 

As if to confirm, Syren held out his hand, gathering more snowflakes in his hand. A million different questions sprung to his mind that he couldn’t even begin to process, all he knew is that alarm bells were going off in his mind. This was a warning. Something was wrong.

“The hoard!! They’ve come!!”

Everything happened at once. As the red moon in the sky burst open, a sudden wind whipped through the camp bringing along a near-freezing temperature. The small snowfall had turned into a blizzard in a mere blink of an eye. But that didn't stop the dragons from racing toward the camp, already hurling fire at them.

Panic in the camp broke out and despite the cold seeping into his limbs, Syren gathered up his lance and braced for the fight of his life.

[before-calamity]

Coerthas

Coerthas's map isn't as bad as some of the other maps, but it's still very samey. As mentioned on the post on Camp Dragonhead, Coerthas is 1.0 is very grassy, and similar looking to La Noscea, except for the type of crags and the trees. Pictured is that nice waterfall I found, close to Camp Riversmeet. That water fall sure is purty.