#the bozja incident

[abyssalmermaiden]

The Bozja Incident

[joiedecombat]

Where were Raine and X’khal when the Seventh Umbral Calamity happened? Did they lose anyone and/or have specific fears born from it?

This one is easy, though unfortunately as answers go it's a little boring.

Raine was safe in Radz-at-Han, and still in something like her mid-teens. It was a frightening time - I imagine most people can't see a moon fall out of the sky and be unmoved by the experience - but they were much less impacted by it than Eorzea and the satrap managed to keep things reasonably calm.

So the Calamity didn't have a life-altering impact on Raine the way it would have if she'd grown up in or nearer to Eorzea. She had intermittent nightmares about Dalamud falling, but got over them in time.

X'khal was in Gyr Abania, a soldier with a resistance camp and also in his teens. He and everyone around him was very much on edge throughout the experience, and they had a rougher time of it than Thavnair did, but still not as bad as people in lands closer to ground zero of Dalamud's impact and Bahamut's rampage.

The Bozja Incident which preceded the Calamity affected X'khal more personally, since that was when he was orphaned. He doesn't really have a lot of clear memories of that, though, since he was quite young and it was pretty traumatic - the experience has a lot to do with his unwillingness to get attached to people.

[melissa-robin-ultros]

This is JUST like Psychonauts

[sergiusreports]

“Fine. You take off for one of them or one of them gets a hold of you, I’ll initiate shutdown hopefully before it can use you.” It went without saying Sergius didn't like it and it was a last option but given the alternative, he'd do it. August gets rattled out of this stupor by Sergius. He marches towards him with a thinly veiled rage, building and pent up and bursting, now. Out of control. “No. You won’t. Cuff him to the fucking bike, knock him out, I don’t care. Do what you need to do, except that.” August: “That’s an order.” Sergius turns his head to stare in Rema's direction as he approaches, unmoved in the face of the man's outburst or his attempt at issuing orders. If he needed the reminder, Rema was a pitch-perfect example of how emotions cast logic to the fucking wind every time. "I'll do what has the greatest probability of success. That's my job." So Rema could keep his orders. Arym goes on a start-stop-start-stop journey of trying to decide whether he should get in the middle, and he finally makes it close enough, "hey--!" His metallic fingers flex into the leather of August's coat, floundering as he tries to read August's expression. "…fuck, have a little faith, August. I'm not that easy to kill." “I want you to understand what life is supposed to be,” August manages. “And I want both of you to respect your own god damn humanity.” He may seem to be out of control, but he’s actually clinging onto what remains of it. He hasn’t lost it completely, and he doesn’t want that to happen while he’s with these two. It’s the last thing anyone needs. He inhales so sharply, it’s like something’s jabbed up and punctured his diaphragm. With that, on the cusp of being completely blinded by emotions he normally suffocates, he turns abruptly to leave. Sergius doesn’t try to stop him. It’s not the first, nor the last time people will confuse the fact that he wants any part of this humanity they claim to have. Acting as though it’s a fucking ideal he should strive for when he knows it to be anything but.

[impossible-rat-babies]

the vierapril bit from the 11th is from an old fic that is rotting in my drafts from the stormblood era. it’s a lot of meandering bc I lost the plot, but it has a fair bit of eyrie talking about doma in it

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 5 - Barbarous

“Blade Hagen, report.”

Fareena grimaced at the small but insistent voice in her ear. She had been woken by yet another unpleasant dream, that same voice calling out without context or guidance. Hear, feel, think about what? Near seventy years she’d had the same dream, and near seventy years of searching had yielded nothing about it. Fareena rubbed sleep from bleary eyes with one hand while putting the other up to her ear.

“Blade Hagen reporting, what’s going on?”

“Timetable’s moved up. The Garleans know we’re coming. Rendezvous with us as quickly as you’re able.”

Fareena was suddenly wide awake. “What? No. Belay that, I’m on my way! I’ll be there in-”

“No time.” The voice was short, curt, announcing the hammer blow to her chest with all the empathy of a stone. “Bozja’s time has come, and her sons and daughters must answer. We’ll see you when you’re back within her walls, Blade Hagen.” Then silence, save for the howling winds outside the cave.

Fareena spat a litany of curses, wincing as her still-healing arm was jolted in a direction it did not expect or appreciate. Regula’s gift was a long-lasting one, but she was finally on the road to recovery. Not that she’d appreciated being cooped up in a cave while her compatriots had planned Bozja’s freedom, but the cold, calculating part of her understood the decision made. Midas’s pet project was rumoured to be nearing completion. Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

With swift, precise movements Fareena armed herself and gathered what few things she’d been able to gather. Other Blades had come and gone after she’d reported in, offered medicines and foodstuffs. Even if they had given her hell for attacking the crown prince’s dogged bodyguard. As if she’d known that when she’d attacked the squad. As if I’d have cared.

Fareena peered out of the cave entrance, thankful that for once the snows had ceased. It would still be difficult to trudge through the lightly packed snow, but she’d run and fought through worse. And besides, her fellow Blades needed her.

“Blade Marasch, what’s going on?” It was a futile effort, knowing that the surly Blade was likely neck-deep in fighting, but it was worth a-

“Blade Hagen, do not approach the city! Repeat, do not approach! Bozja is lost, the Blades are broken! Turn back!”

Fareena froze in her tracks, gaze suddenly unable to tear itself from the shining city before her. “Blade Marasch, if this is a joke, it’s the worst-”

“Midas has completed Project Meteor. We can’t deactivate it. Bozja is lost. Live for us, Blade Hagen. You are the last of us now.”

“No. No, no, no. You do not get to dump this on me! You will find a way to deactivate it, damn you! Don’t you dare leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry, my dear. Goodbye.”

Silence. A piercing white light spiking from the city’s spires. Growing to encompass the whole city. Blossoming into a flower of perfect death. A furious roar belatedly rushing past Fareena, whipping the fallen snow into a maelstrom, shaking the trees. Then it was gone, taking the city with it.

Fareena stared in shock at the ruin that used to be her home. She sank to her knees, unblinking, forcing herself to witness every inch of the space where Bozja used to stand. Every man, woman and child, gone. Every last moment of the city’s culture and history erased. Every Blade of Gunnhildr vanquished.

No. Not all of them. That same voice from her dream, calm and gentle and utterly, utterly furious. You remain. Avenge them.

Fareena Hagen, final Blade of Gunnhildr, stood.

[mmorpg-escapism]

I've been leveling Dancer as my physical ranged "main" job and I keep getting nibbled by a "nothing went wrong" AU brainworm while I write my blorbo into Terrible Consequences Of Decade Old Hurts.

I'm not even 3 chapters in, brain. Knock it off. Put that back where it came from or so help me...

[isayoldbean]

okay so let me introduce you to the first alt i ever made that i was able to stick with (to be fair, when your main is beef it's hard to find a character that can hold your interest in comparison)

his name is bane lunyasch, he lives on ultros primal, and he was born in a wet cardboard box by the side of the road

i asked him to pose for a picture and he panicked and tried to run away so this is all i could get sorry

he grew up in bozja, working with his large family in their small but popular bakery and trying to stay out of trouble with the garleans. however, when he came of age, he was conscripted into the military as a secutor and was shipped off to ala mhigo. not long after his forced departure, the bozja incident occurred, resulting in the loss of his entire hometown and all of his known family. while his hatred and resentment towards the empire continued to deepen, he also had to contend with the complex emotions that came from knowing that his being conscripted had also saved his life, in an odd way. it's something he still struggles to reconcile to this day.

bane has always been a gentle soul, so his stint in the military was even worse than it might have been otherwise. he couldn't handle the strain of the guilt from the things he had to do in order to survive, and so when his unit was shipped out to the front at the battle of carteneau, he took advantage of the chaos to fake his death and escape.

a defector with no home to return to and no real idea of what to do next, he remembered the conversations with an elezen conscript he had worked with previously about gridania and the conjurers that came from there, and made up his mind: he would run away to gridania and learn the healing arts, living a quiet life of helping to save others in penance for what he had been forced to do for the garleans, and forsaking violence for the rest of his life

however, since he is the warrior of light, life has other plans in store for him. and he's not gonna be happy about it

anyway i've learned that playing as a hrothgar does something to your brain. they send out hypnotic waves begging you to bimbofy and/or babygirlify them and it is so, so hard to resist. i am in a constant tug of war trying to balance the way i Want them to be with the way They want to be

anyway he's got anxiety and depression and ptsd and he knits to help his nerves and he owns a bakery in the lavender beds and he has an adopted mooncat daughter he found abandoned in the woods and he has huge tits and he's afraid of voidsent and he's bisexual and he's always constantly on the verge of crying and i love him even though he's a sad wet pathetic catman who has every disease

[heavy-swing]

Aelita Tirasch

B A S I C S

Name: Aelita Tirasch Nicknames: None as a child, Yugiri has taken to calling her "Aya" (which means "colorful" or "beautiful" in Hingan) Age: 35 by the end of Endwalker Nameday: 6th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon (8/6) Race: Bozjan Hrothgar, technically Lost as she's not in service to a queen Gender: Female Orientation: Big ol' lesbian (and taken by Yugiri Mistwalker as of mid-Stormblood) Profession: Marauder/Warrior (ARR), Dark Knight (HW), learns a bit of Machinist tangentially to HW and Gunbreaker after Shadowbringers

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Steel-y, pastel blue Eyes: similar to her hair, pastel blue Skin: has black fur with "tiger" stripes in a similar shade of blue Tattoos/scars: thin slash scar across her chest from her battle with Esteem/her dark side

F A M I L Y

Parents: She was raised by her parents as refugees in La Noscea near Summerford Farms, though they left her to return to Bozja when she was 15. Mother: Lunya Tirasch - She was a working artisan (primarily a blacksmith); she had a small forge that she ran in Bozja before she got pregnant with Aelita and then eventually had to flee. It took a while after she gave birth and escaped Othard to take up smithing again, but she eventually formed a small-time partnership with Naldiq & Vymelli’s, providing them with parts for use in shipbuilding and occasionally taking small tool or armor commissions from locals. She made Aelita’s working tools, and Aelita is sure to wear or carry a piece of metal her mother worked on with her at all times, eventually getting some of it worked into an earring with a blue-green mineral that her friend Chrysocolla gave to her. Father: Jaromir Tirasch - He was royal guard in charge of protecting the Queen of his clan. He was urged by said queen (Tira) to flee as they’d just had a child and she wished the baby to survive the incoming invasion. The shame at abandoning his people to the fate of the Garleans haunts him, and learning of the Bozja Incident spurs him to eventually return and try to make things right. Aelita looked up to his strength and desire to protect the things he cares about and it’s a big reason for her headstrong fighting style. Siblings: No siblings, though she sees her friend Chrysocolla as like a brother. (More about him below) Grandparents: None living. In-laws and Other: Yugiri Mistwalker - Her current significant other. They'd started to have feelings for each other fairly early on in the course of the MSQ, and then Aelita felt she had to say how she felt after Yugiri's failed assassination of Zenos nearly got her killed. They've been happily together since, with Aelita making frequent trips to the Doman Enclave and writing when she can't be there. She has been to Yugiri's home village and technically met her parents, but given Yugiri's complicated relationship with them, they don't really know who Aelita is or what she means to their daughter. Chrysocolla - A friend she made as a teenager, Chrysocolla is a geologist who she met while he was studying the rocks of La Noscea for his coursework in Sharlayan. He struck a deal with her when he noticed her exceptional strength with an axe, and they've been close ever since. He helps support her campaign against the Empire by supplying her with raw materials and commissioning artisans to keep her stocked with supplies and gear, and she tells him everything. Aurienne - A former Ishgardian living in exile after escaping a death sentence for an unfair charge of heresy, Aurienne has tremendous martial prowess, and as a member of the Marauder's guild, quickly spots teenage Aelita's strength and lack of parents and decides to take the young girl under her wing. Aurienne is responsible not only for Aelita's ability with an axe, but also a cynical view of politics and a sarcastic streak, though without a lot of the meanness of her teacher. Aurienne becomes a sort of mother figure to Aelita, and though she knows it's not a role she's particularly well suited for, she tries her best anyway. Pets: Has a little calico cat that's followed her around since her time in La Noscea that she's named Latani (meaning patchwork).

S K I L L S

Abilities: Very physically strong from many years of farm work as a child/teenager, and channeled that through training from Aurienne and Fray into wielding an axe and a greatsword (as a Warrior and a Dark Knight). She also inherited some of her mother's knack for smithing and manufacturing, and falls in with Stephanivien at the Skysteel Manufactory to help him produce handguns and rifles. Eventually after a return to Bozja post-shadowbringers, she learns the way of the Gunbreaker from a comrade of her father's. Hobbies: fishing, metalcraft, cooking (she's trying to learn but it's rough), assembling little model kits, entertaining local kids, gardening

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Will absolutely throw herself into harm's way without hesitation if she thinks it will save someone she cares about (or even if it will piss off someone she hates). Bonus mention to her being a fierce advocate for and defender of refugees. Most Negative Trait: She rarely thinks long before acting, leading her to end up in some sticky situations that a bit of forethought might've been able to avoid. Luckily, she's tough enough to take some blows on the chin, but it does get her in trouble.

L I K E S

Colors: turquoise green, steel blue, silver, burnt orange Smells: furnace smoke, sea breeze, cooked fish, citrus, cherry blossoms Textures: unpolished iron, soft fur, Au'ra scales Drinks: lemonade, green tea, whiskey

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Never smoked herself, but has been in the presence of those who do. Finds the smell a bit nostalgic, for some reason. Drinks: Not something she seeks out all the time, but if invited to have a drink, she's hard-pressed to refuse. Can definitely be goaded into drinking games/contests. Drugs: Hasn't tried any, but is open to the idea in the future. Mount Issuance: since she never joined a grand company, she was given a chocobo by Alphinaud as part of the formation of the Crystal Braves, which she resented him for. Over time she's come around on both him and the bird, and she named her chocobo Lojalni (meaning loyal), or Loja for short. Been Arrested: Was arrested for drunken conduct once or twice as a teenager after her parents left but before she'd met Aurienne. After defeating Leviathan, Merlwyb formally wipes them off of her record (though they were misdemeanors at worst). Otherwise, she's stayed out of trouble beyond the events of the MSQ.

More general blog info below the cut:

Universe tags: WoL universe - warrior of light; civilian universe - daughter of the forge

Blog organizing stuff: ama - questions asked to Aelita; wol writes - questions answered in character; my writing - out of character writing/fic; tag game or ask game - for memes/games going around; gpose - for gposes

[ffxivxd]

Bajsaljen Ulgasch was afforded the opportunity to marry and have a child thanks to his status as a medic within the Imperial Army. However, his family perished thanks to the Bozja incident while he was away on a campaign.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 1: steer

It hadn’t been bad, just him and the mammets, but...

Well. Jaiyu is fully prepared to admit to anyone who asks that having Zeiran eir Tahlar around is a vast improvement. It’s good to have a navigator, if nothing else. Someone whose hands he trusts on the Tormorjargal’s controls. (Trust. When had that happened? Oh, it was definitely sometime between that mad scramble into Garlemald to rescue the man’s family and the equally mad scramble back, but he’s sure there must’ve been what Zeizei would call an inciting incident.)

(It was probably before they fell into bed together. Probably. It might’ve even been that first sight of him on the Garlemald airship platform, surrounded by fellow refugees and so desperate to get them to safety before the city collapsed that he was even willing to take a chance on the rebel who’d battled him across Bozja.)

Anyway. Now he has a partner. Someone who takes turns cooking and fusses over keeping the hold organized and—against his will, apparently—makes friends with the mammets. Whose cat sleeps in Jaiyu’s bed. (In what he keeps catching himself thinking of as their bed, not that they talk about things like that.) Who snorts at his jokes and has a permanent pencil smudge on his right pinkie and hasn’t run away yet, even though he could. The Garlean Empire might be gone, but Zeiran’s a smart man and an incredible fighter. He wouldn’t lack for opportunities if he did decide to fuck off somewhere at the next port and never come back. Jaiyu wouldn’t even be surprised.

They keep landing at different ports. Thavnair, Doma, Hingashi. Zeiran keeps not fucking off.

He’s at the helm now, a mammet on either side of him, with his sleeves rolled up and his collar undone and his vest slung over the back of the chair. Now that it’s no longer being slicked back so tightly—now that he’s no longer eir Tahlar, but simply Zeiran—some of his lovely black hair is flopping in his face, and Jaiyu’s fingers itch to mess it up some more. He watches from the doorway instead, unable to look away from the light in Zeiran’s ruby eyes or the faint twitch of a smile on his lips.

Oh, he’d like to do more. He’d like to do a lot more. But even if Zeiran didn’t get so bloody prickly when he’s working, his cat is riding around on Jaiyu’s shoulders, which is a real feat because Fortis is an Ilsabardian Forest Cat and weighs about thirty ponzes. Jaiyu isn’t suicidal enough to make any sudden moves.

“I can feel you staring,” Zeiran grumbles.

He would laugh, but that might dislodge the cat. He grins instead, thumping his tail on the doorframe. “Zeizei, I’ve got the best view in Eorzea. Can you blame me?”

Zeiran’s pale, so when he blushes—like he’s doing now—it’s spectacular. It reaches all the way to his adorable little hyuran ears. “You are an arsehole,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to it. A real smile threatens to break free.

He was wrong a moment ago. This is the best view in Eorzea.

[dalmascan-requiem]

Lente's Hymn: Resistance (Chapter 1)

-------

It's time to face the past.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

Next Chapter >

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It's finally time to start the Bozja fic! This is one of the most important bits for both of my boys, and it is angsty. They have a lot to work through, after all, since Kris went MIA for four years going around doing Warrior of Light stuff. I'm not sure how long this one will be, but we'll be going through the whole Bozja story in the process!

Of note, I've moved the Bozja storyline from post-Shadowbringers to post-Stormblood, and Cid's around more. That's the important canon-bending stuff!

"Must you glare at me so, Kris?" Hancock looks over the rim of his teacup at the Viera, rose-rimmed glasses making his gaze inscrutable. "Have some tea! I just wanted to have a simple chat."

Kris sighs and leans over to pour himself some tea. "Chats are never simple with you."

"Hah! You know me too well." Kris's frown only grows deeper as Hancock chuckles, and the Hyur quickly clears his throat before continuing. "I have something of utmost importance to discuss."

Of course it's important… no one would call the Warrior of Light for a relaxing tea time. Kris inwardly rolled his eyes at the unwanted title. He's helped to liberate countries and slew eikons the world over, but it's never enough to earn some rest.

"I received word from Lord Hien that our friends in the Bozjan resistance, our comrades in the Eastern Alliance, seek the aid of distinguished heroes in their fight against the Empire." Hancock sets down his teacup with a smile. "Naturally, your name immediately sprung to mind."

The Bozjan resistance, strange that they're asking for help. Kris remembered some of the interactions--or rather, arguments the Bozjan and Dalmascan resistances had over the years. Neither group was willing to accept much in the way of outside help, to both force's detriment. 

But Bozja won't truly be free without loosening the Empire's grip on Rabanastre, and that much is clear to Bojzans and Dalmascans both. 

That means working with them eventually… but with any luck my work will be done before I run into someone that recognizes me. The last thing he'd want is for--

"So, what say you?"

Kris snaps out of his thoughts to look at Hancock. I forgot he was talking… "Yes, of course. I can't very well deny them after you so… thoughtfully talked me up, now can I?" He stands up and heads toward the door, tea untouched. "I'll find Hien straightaway. Thank you for the tea."

"Ah, must you leave so soo--" Kris shuts the door before Hancock can finish his sentence.

~

The next few days flew by in a haze. It appeared that the Bozjan Resistance wanted more than just heroes--they also wanted to outfit them with recreations of the Blades of Gunnhildr. Seeing vaunted heroes on the field with such legendary arms would serve not only to boost morale, but also send the Garleans a message that the Queensguard lives on.

The problem was no one remembered how the godsdamned things looked. It appeared, however, that Mikoto from the Students of Baldesion was able to conceive a device to delve into a person's subconscious--and if they found someone that had been close to the weapons in the past, they could get the information they'd need to recreate them now.

However, years past, the Garleans destroyed the whole of the Bozja capital, and with it, the soldiers that would have seen the Blades. But if Mikoto's precognitive Echo was correct, there is one person who can still help… Cid Garlond.

"Bozja… I would never have thought I could try to atone all these years later." Cid's voice is quiet, nearly carried away from the wind whipping around the airship.

Kris looks towards the man in silence until he continues. "The incident that destroyed the captial… it was my fault. If I had only--"

"Self-flagellating will get you nowhere." I know that all too well myself. "We will be diving into your past shortly, anyway. No need to torture yourself by reliving it now."

"Perhaps…" Cid mumbles, then turns to meet Kris's gaze. "Bozja is but a stone's throw away from Dalmasca."

Kris frowns slightly. "That it is."

Through a lapse of judgment on Kris's part, Cid found out about him being a former member of the Dalmascan Resistance. He didn't tell the Garlean much of the details, just enough to sate his curiosity. Thankfully, for his part, Cid never told another soul about this.

But his past is hard to ignore when it's so close by.

Cid clears his throat, then continues. "Is seeing your former comrades again something you wanted? No doubt they be happy to know one of their own is the Warrior of Light."

"I doubt that, Cid. And you know full well it's never been about what I wanted."

The sharp edge in Kris's tone stops Cid from prying further, and the Garlean falls silent until he speaks up again. "My apologies, that came out harsher than intended. Regardless, the Bozjan resistance is not working with Dalmasca--they'd spend too much time bickering instead of fighting the enemy."

"I see…" Cid stares at the horizon as Gangos comes into view, lost in thought.

Kris follows suit, looking at the fastly approaching cove. "Are you ready?"

"No, but I will face the past regardless."

~

Kris sighs as he watches the sunset. He and Mikoto delved into Cid's past as planned, and the Garlean was forced to face some harsh truths about his family and his past. It felt cruel, putting him through that…

However, the effort wasn't fruitless. Cid had been in the inner sanctum that held the Blades, and seen each in enough detail wherein the others could recreate both the look and the important inscriptions upon each weapon.

But as expected, creating the weapons takes time, and Kris has spent the last few days idle. He has offered to go to the battlefront, but Bajsaljen had refused, urging Kris to save his strength. The Viera spins a ring on his finger, frustrated with being unable to do anything.

Kris's ears twitch to the direction of footsteps from behind, breaking him out of his ruminations. He turns around quickly to the sight of Bajsaljen. "Apologies, I hadn't meant to sneak up on you."

Kris simply shakes his head and turns his gaze from the Hrothgar to the weapon in his hands. "Is that the blade you'll have me wield?"

"Yes." Bajsaljen lifts the greatsword up slightly. "This is Blade's Justice, a greatsword used by one of the Queensguard with some… more unique abilities."

Another Dark Knight, then. He takes the greatsword in hand and turns it over a few times. What a savage looking blade… and deadly sharp to boot. It'd take no effort to cleave a man in two. Such a fitting weapon for the Warrior of Light.

The Resistance leader continues. "The inscriptions you helped us recover have a use, as well. If you channel a small amount of aether into the blade, it will glow. Many soldiers rallied to the Queensguard on the battlefield by looking for the weapons' glow."

"Makes sense. Easier than trying to yell over the noise of battle, and it wouldn't be a proper recreation if it didn't act as a beacon… for allies and enemies alike." Bajsaljen fumbles over his words in an attempt to respond, but Kris ignores him and channels a sliver of aether into the blade. 

The weapon begins emitting a dark purple hue, somehow bright in spite of the shade. He watches the blade's colors pulse and shift for a moment before cutting off the flow of aether. 

"Fascinating." Kris looks back up to Bajsaljen. "Thank you, I'll be sure to use it well."

"Of that I have no doubt." Kris had thought the conversation would have ended there, but as the Hrothgar shifted his feet in the sand, it was clear he was not yet done.

"What else, Bajsaljen?"

"Ah--we've… we've completed the recreation of all the weapons, so we are nearly ready for you to join the front lines. We're simply waiting for the soldiers from Dalmasca to join us."

"The Dalmascan Resistance? I thought your group and theirs were on poor terms."

Bajsaljen lets out a growl of frustration. "That is true, but… we thought to extend our hand in hopes of mending the rift, and having a few of their strongest fighters wield the Blades and fight with us. To me, there seems no better way to work towards our shared goal than for the troops to see us all fighting together."

"I can't argue to that." As much as I wish I could… Godsdamnit, why is Dalmascan getting involved already? "Who are the soldiers they're sending?"

"I don't have any names, but of importance, they have a fighter that can wield the Blade's Resolve."

Kris's eyes widen slightly in shock. "You mean… the gunblade? Why would you have a Dalmascan wield the very symbol of the Queensguard?"

"We… have no Gunbreakers among our ranks. Not anymore." Bajsaljen shakes his head and shifts his gaze to the nearly-set sun. "We thought the art completely lost when the capital was destroyed, as so many were killed when the capitial fell. We had heard of a survivor happening upon the Dalmascan Resistance, however, and that he trained anyone with the aptitude how to wield a gunblade."

The Hrothgar crosses his arms. "Likely he thought he was the only one left and needed to pass down the art any way possible."

"I see…" Kris remembered the time the Hrothgar mercenary came across his camp all too well. He indeed taught as many as he could how to use a gunblade, but only a handful of soldiers showed enough aptitude and confidence to take them afield.

"But you needn't worry about the resistances' petty squabbles. Just know that you will have allies at your side." Bajsaljen turns around and begins heading back to the camp. "Rest well, the fighting will begin soon."

Kris watches Bajsaljen leave, then looks down at the greatsword, nervously strumming his fingers against the hilt. What awful luck to have Dalmascans joining us so soon. I hope no one recognizes me. And a gunbreaker too… The Warrior of Light looks out on the water reflecting the last light of dusk. I know there are several gunbreakers among their ranks, and likely even more have joined since I left, but I can't help but think to…

~

"Elja."

Laurent doesn't turn away from the papers scattered across the table of his tent. "What is it?"

"A-a message from the commander."

The Viera waves a hand vaguely toward the edge of the table. "Put it there, I'll look at it later."

He hears the messenger clear his throat. "The commander said the orders are urgent and I'm not to leave until I've seen you open it."

Laurent huffs and turns on his heel, facing the messenger. "Fine. Give it to me."

The messenger shifts his eyes away from Laurent and holds the letter out.

"Don't be so nervous, that'll get you killed next time you're carrying urgent messages across dangerous territory." Laurent grabs the letter out of the messenger's hand as he attempts to string together a response.

"I… yes, s-sir, noted sir…"

Laurent ignores him as he breaks the seal. Whenever Fran needs something from me, it's never anything pleasant. As fushcia eyes continue to scan the letter, he could tell that this time would be no different.

~*~

I have an urgent request of you. The Bozjan Resistance is looking to make a push to liberate their lands now that Garlemald is reeling from its losses. They are looking to recreate the Gueensguard, with none other than the Warrior of Light at their head.

Furthermore, the Bozjans have asked for a few token warriors in our ranks to help with the push, looking to bring us into the Queensguard as well. It appears to be a goodwill attempt, perhaps a way to get us to shift our focus to Bozja. That said, a unified front will be better than a fragmented one, so regardless of the reason I felt compelled to agree.

You are to travel to Gangos, where the resistance is currently stationed. Go there, accept their terms, and fight to free Bozja so we can free our own lands. Make sure our interests are known, so that they will not forget this kindness and help us, in turn.

~*~

"What in the seven hells is this? I am to simply drop everything and head to Bozja? Ridiculous--" Laurent looks up from the letter to complain to the messenger only to find him gone. I guess he did see me open the letter…

He reads over the contents a few more times before pinching the bridge of his nose. Gods, why me? I've never been good with the politics of dealing with the Bojzans. Eir was-- Laurent shakes his head and begins packing the tent up. I came here to fight, not to deal with the hemming and hawwing of the Bozjans.

"And the Warrior of Light, too…" The Viera clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had heard plenty of stories of the hero that has liberated countries around Hydaelyn, but he also knew they were too fantastical to be true.

No singular person could achieve such feats on their own. "On top of the Bozjans I'll have to deal with some pretenious and over-confident child that rode on the coattails of the armies and took all the credit. Gods, what a mission…"

But, I can't refuse Fran, so… I best prepare to leave.

[mercurialmalcontent]

I have some thoughts about this post about not putting hard numbers (times, measurements) in your writing unless absolutely necessary, after seeing a bunch of people be weird pedants in the notes and assuming that only refers to real-world dates and measures.

My prime example of how using specific numbers weakened the narrative is Final Fantasy XIV. When you begin the game, you learn that it’s been five years since a calamity that reshaped the face of the world, and fifteen years since a particular huge battle, twenty years since a different disaster. That’s fine, it gives the player an anchor point in the history of that world.

By the time you reach the end of the current expansion, mandatory content has guided your character through world-wide travel and multiple wars. Characters will allude to a fair chunk of time having passed since you last spoke to them, or talk about how travel between some places took days, weeks, months... and then someone in a main story quest will say it’s been five years since the Calamity, fifteen years since the Battle at Silvertear, twenty years since the Bozja incident, just like it was two entire wars ago.

At this point in the game’s life cycle it’s become frankly stupid, a having their cake and eating it too trying to justify why some characters don’t seem to age while also trying to insinuate time has passed... and it’s completely unneccessary. All it would have taken to avoid the absurd insinuation that this is all taking place in the span of a year is, past the base game, using inexact descriptions of the timespans involved.

There are so many ways to express the passage of time -- short, long, in-between -- that give a lot of wiggle room. In the years since the Calamity, in all the years since the Battle of Silvertear, in the many years since the Bozja incident -- three things I came up with off the top of my head that express a general idea of how long its been while still allowing a lot of flexibility. It doesn’t matter if a player has done no side content or all of the side content, that flexibility allows them to interpret the timespans involved in a way that makes sense for their playthrough. The player’s suspension of disbelief doesn’t get broken, and the developers still don’t have to worry about portraying the exact ages of characters.

Instead, it’s still been five years since the Calamity, fifteen years since the Battle at Silvertear, twenty years since the Bozja incident, to the point it jars people out of the story and has them rolling their eyes instead of paying attention.

[khajiitclaws]

I have some altered lore for Hrothgar Sori. She’s from Bozja but had flee due to the Empire. Was not present for the Bozja Incident but that’s where her family was killed. She is a descendant of the Queen Gunnhildr (the queen before Misija’s ancestor) and her family trained in the art of the gunblade, passing down their skills to her.

[tritoch]

fuck it. have an enormous oc lore dump. this is the "canon" wol oc i conceived as part of my personal preferred approach in some games to take the game's text as presented, not headcanon away any elements, and, as much as possible, adhere to whatever "definitive" canon as best as can be discerned from what's given as an option. as a comedy bit, I also wanted to make a Warrior of Light who does everything you can do in canon, like an omnijob level 90 did all the raids did all the beast tribes caught every fish did all the relics did every hildi questline kind of WoL. Someone who really does mostly communicate through nods and punch gestures and only says the specific lines you can say in game (except for the scenes, increasingly common in later expacs, where they let you imagine a conversation). I just think it's funny to take an approach to the game that is at once fairly restrained (no elements beyond what is already presented in the lore) and extremely maximalist (yes, he one hundred percent did steal those pants). spoilers through stormblood under the break.

Wolund Anadezhda (not his real name) was born in Bozja in the year 1533 of the Sixth Astral Era to a young gunbreaker in Bozja's army and her husband, a foundling adept of the Verdant Path and fellow soldier. Resolving that their son would not grow up in the shadow of war, the Hrothgar couple resolved to have him sent out of the country shortly after his birth. He grew up instead under the care of his father's adoptive sister, a master of the Verdant Path in her own right, who left Bozja some years prior under uncertain circumstances after a serious injury left her unable to return to the front lines.

The sister (a Sea Wolf Roegadyn) had through various adventures found herself running a Dalmascan caravanserai, a walled inn a day's travel west of the city of Rabanastre. There, she raised Wolund both to run an inn and in the forms of the Verdant Path. Though not a warm woman, she did her best to raise Wolund carefully and lovingly, and honoring her brother and sister-in-law's wishes, tried to shelter him from the horrors of the world. He, in return, idolized her. He received sporadic letters from his parents, at least until Bozja fell. Their ultimate fates are unknown, though Wolund believes that even if they didn't die during the course of the war, they likely died as part of the resistance or in the Bozja Incident.

In the year 1547, 6th AE, Dalmasca is invaded by the IVth Legion. The caravanserai is close enough to the border for the Garlean line to advance past it fairly quickly, and Wolund chooses to remain with his aunt in order to protect her from the occupation as best he could. As Wolund has grown, his aunt has told him stories of the devastation war had wreaked in Bozja, and of the losses she still grieved. She explained to him that students of the Verdant Path such as herself had been targeted by the IVth Legion to be brought in dead or alive in a bid to control their knowledge and break Bozja's ability to resist, and that she had fled the country at her brother's behest to preserve the school's knowledge for future generations. Chafing under Imperial rule, Wolund aspired, at the time, to learn as best he could from her, follow in her footsteps, and do his part to maintain the lineage of the Verdant Path school.

In my conception, the Verdant Path, as a multidisciplinary school that teaches (at least) spear, greatsword, katana, and unarmed combat as part of its tradition, encompasses more of a martial philosophy, conceptual approach to space, and footwork system than a specific set of techniques for various weapons. This is a key element of why Wolund, in order to adhere as closely to the maximum extent of the available canon as possible, can pick up like 19 different martial disciplines, sweet Mary Sue that he is.

As he aged into his late teens and early twenties, Wolund was settling into his role as his aunt's chef, handyman, disciple, and likely future replacement innkeeper, as her war injury made physical labor increasingly difficult. Also around this time, Wolund has a brief engagement with a Keeper of the Moon Mi'qote merchant, part of a tribe of several Keeper families who operated a caravan which plied a route between Rabanastre and Martrvje in Bozja. At her behest, largely as a practical matter on her end though not without some romance, they had a child together, with the intent that, as in most Keeper families, she would raise the child herself, though he would, by grace of the caravan's route, have periodic contact with them both.

Before the child's birth, however, an imperial recruiter looking to fill a quota came through town. And so in the year 1556, 6th AE, at the age of 23, Wolund was conscripted and assigned to the VIth Legion, then a corrupt and disorderly force occupying the relatively peaceful southern coast of Ilsabard. A far cry from Emperor Solus's disciplined armies, the VIth Legion then was scarcely indistinguishable from a private mercenary group answering to local colonial governments.

Wolund struggled after his initial conscription, seething at the prospect of two decades under the Garlean Empire's yoke, fell into despair, and tried to emotionally withdraw. Since he was a quiet, disciplined conscript as well as a young and fairly imposing Hrothgar, his Garlean officers read in him the ready Garleanization that they wished to see. His practiced prowess in the training hall further contrasted his "bestial" appearance in the eyes of the bigoted Garlean officers. In Wolund, they saw a useful tool and status symbol for their occupation.

Consequently, while Wolund's time resembled the expected conscript experience in many respects, it was also marked by unexpected success in the unusual, corrupt environment of the VIth Legion. He spent plenty of time in his first couple of years on hard, undesirable labor, as any conscript would: digging ditches, building infrastructure, policing occupied populations, and, in the singular case of open conflict breaking out, serving on the front lines. However, he stood out from his peers, and he found himself frequently serving as a sort of exotic trophy or bodyguard for increasingly senior officers or local bigwigs. Eventually, he found himself attached to the staff of the legion's 10th Cohort as vexillarius, or standard-bearer, for the cohort's pilus prior. This turned out to be, given his centurion's corruption and close links to the local colonial government, merely a slightly more elevated form of his old work serving as muscle and an imposing presence behind preening dignitaries.

At this point, about six years into his two decades, Wolund's conscription seemed on a steady path to eventual citizenship. For his part, he remained as emotionally disengaged as he could manage, materially secure in his position in the 10th Cohort. The insulated world he built came crashing down in his sixteenth year of service, when crown prince Varis yae Galvus sent his close friend and confidant Regula van Hydrus to reform the corrupt VIth Legion. Many senior officers, including Wolund's centurion, were executed by firing squad for their abuses and indiscretions, with still more clapped in irons and hauled before military tribunals. Efforts to reform the legion's reputedly undisciplined soldiers saw Wolund, like many other conscripts, detached from the VIth in the hopes that reassignment to a more disciplined legion could salvage the conscripts that, in Regula's eyes, the VIth had nearly wrecked. Wolund found himself assigned to the VIIth Legion in 1572, on the eve of Carteneau.

In year 4 of the Seventh Umbral Era, Wolund completed his term of conscription. Engraved and sealed legionary diploma in hand, he made his way to Garlemald itself, where his paperwork was verified and his name added to the citizen's registry. He returned to the caravanserai outside Rabanastre as Wolund pyr Anadezhda. There, he found his aunt, now some 20 years older, and her unexpected apprentice as innkeeper: his own daughter, now a 20-year-old woman and soon to be running the place herself.

Of Carteneau itself, there is little to say, and what few coherent memories Wolund may have had were taken by Louisoix's magic, along with Eorzea's Warriors of Light. Wolund crawled out of the catastrophe and butchery of the Seventh Umbral Calamity to find himself one of the VIIth's few survivors. Reassigned to the Vth, he served out the rest of his term quietly, though nightmares of Carteneau continued to plague him. While serving in the Vth Legion, he served as a quartermaster and honed his skill in both literacy and sums.

For about four months, Wolund tenuously reinserted himself into the daily life of the inn while attempting to form a connection to his daughter and reconnect to his aunt and his daughter's mother. His efforts to begin his life again were cut short when soldiers came sniffing around the caravanserai on the order of a local magistrate, a former officer of the VIth Legion who sought to employ him as a trainer to his household guard. Recognizing that he would not be able to live a life free of the Garlean Empire's boot so long as he remained within their lands, and not wishing to endanger his daughter or aunt by enlisting them in his decision, Wolund simply skipped town one night. He left behind all his possessions except for enough money to see him safely overseas, as well as a letter that stated tersely that he did not wish to be followed. From the caravanserai he made his way by horse to Rabanastre and then to Valnain, where he caught a ride on a merchant ship bound for Hingashi, and from thence to Limsa Lominsa, where he arrived in year 5 of the Seventh Umbral Era.

Upon arriving in Eorzea, Wolund, leaning on his most recent skills in math and reading, as well as his admittedly rusty knowledge of trade goods from his time at the caravanserai, applies to work at the Arcanist's Guild. Everything proceeds as it does in the game from there.

All this is in service of a couple things. First of all, honestly, giving him a big backstory where various bad things happen to him over the course of a long time is primarily in service of dealing with what I think is one of the shakiest scenes in the game: the moment where Fordola accidentally uses the Echo on you and is shocked to her core by the scale of the tragedy you've overcome. I just don't think this makes a lot of sense for the WoL based just on what's depicted in-game, as sad as the events of the Banquet and Haurchefant's and Ysayle's deaths and Minfilia's sacrifice are. Giving him a comparable backstory to Fordola as a legion conscript does a lot, in my book, to smooth out that scene and make its emotional weight land better in my head, as do elements like the death and destruction he witnessed at Carteneau and the stuff about his daughter.

Secondly, in addition to that scene, this is just supposed to help set up a lot of stuff about the WoL I find a little clunky, particularly earlier on. Why does everyone in the Scions immediately glom on to you and decide you're their hero? Well, maybe the WoL is a stoic and outwardly emotionally reassuring older man who's conveniently older than the oldest of the Scions by more than a decade, and he can fill the Louisoix-shaped hole in their hearts that each of them except maybe Y'shtola very obviously has. How are you simultaneously everyone's favorite guy and also a story non-entity? Maybe he's nice and kind to people but very bad at handling and leading them initially (as evidenced by letting Alphinaud sleepwalk you all into a trap at the Banquet), in part because he spent the better part of two decades playing the part of mute imposing muscle for aristocratic officers. And maybe the fact he's consciously silenced himself for 20 years plays into the fact that the Warrior of Light becomes chattier throughout the expansions. Maybe he knows how to wear Garlean conscript armor and operate magitek because he was once a conscript himself. And so on and so forth.

Third, playing by my dumb "canon" rules, the WoL has to come from outside Eorzea. You're arriving by ship or cart and you're clearly unfamiliar with the city-states by the text. However, you also can't come from a lot of known places, since then you're bumping up against the issue that those places will also treat you like a stranger when you arrive in-game. There's no Bozja dialogue for being Hrothgar, but 1) to them it's not weird they'd have no reason to mention it and 2) this is why he isn't culturally Bozjan. Linking the WoL to Dalmasca solves this issue because the only Dalmascans you meet would have no reason to know a random Imperial conscript, you have no real time with them to shoot the shit about culture, we will not go to a functioning Rabanastre ever, and there is no reason you would have wanted to share all this with anyone on board the Prima Vista. Fourth, the WoL is a person of many talents and skills. Chalking up his weapon skills to the Verdant Path and his conscription, and linking his DoH/DoL skills to his upbringing, goes a long way towards helping ground some of that (as much as delightful nonsense can be grounded). Fifth, I think it's really funny to make the Warrior of Light a deadbeat dad. Final Fantasy is so full of bad sad dads already, WoL should get to be one. Lastly, I'm jealous that 1.0 players got to be at Carteneau and I want to bite their style but I refuse to break canon to do so, which means conscript it has to be (since being from a Free or Grand Company would contravene the earlier point about having to be new to Eorzea).

(A note on timelines: ARR begins in the year 5 of the Seventh Umbral Era, which would have been Year 1577 of the Sixth Astral Era. Per the wiki, Bozja is noted to have been invaded some fifty years ago, suggesting a war that begins in 1527 or so, but its conquest is described as happening "over thirty" years ago and multiple places note the campaign as grueling, so I think part of the idea (which gels with the trenches we see in the southern front) is supposed to be that the Bozjan campaign was a brutal and grinding one for the IVth Legion, or that after seizing Bozja proper it still took a long time to stamp out all resistance. Dalmasca was invaded 30 years ago in 1547, also by the IVth Legion, presumably fairly soon after stabilizing their grip on Bozja. I don't think there's any time given for when Regula goes to the VIth and reforms it, but since they only clear their tainted reputation in the succession war following Solus's death, I figure he can't have been there that long and he makes a convenient reason to move Wolund around, so five years approximately concurrent with the 1.0 to 2.0 timeskip seems like a decent timeline for his reform.)

[impossible-rat-babies]

i still enjoy thinking about pollux in 14 because he is absolutely just. oh you can be a wretch in the gremlin way. like he would be a defected garlean who joins the ironworks. has the moral compass of nero but doesn’t have “prove your worth” issues nero had going for a minute. fuck it we ball kinda vibe. cid sanctions what he does because he is going to do the thing either way. he was in bozja when it blew up and is Totally Well Adjusted about seeing his boss be tempered by bahamut and the explosion there. worked on the g-force warrior from the sorrows trial series and wishes cid let him put more guns on it. the sort of “that was fucked up what happened with the ruby weapon huh? *pause* anyway what is going on inside this thing.”

edit: he would be mean Nero until the end of the omega raids at which point he still be mean to him but it’s in a stupid Rude way, but not like a malicious rude way. (I think about what nero says in the omega raids + ew role quests a lot bc he’s just some cool dude)