Reflecting on Momoriâs second and final death
Itâs pretty weird to kill a character, and probably even weirder to do it to the same character twice. But as I wrote more than a year ago, Momoriâs motivations and skills make her a very difficult character to âsave.â Although Iâve only played DA:O, Iâm tangentially aware of Solas, and...in some respects, sheâs like him. Unbending to the end, with little victories that show sheâs not this heartless monster and yet - in order to actually win her over, youâd have to go so far.
I try to realistically consider the circumstances surrounding my characters and often, that leads me to pushing them into incredibly difficult situations. For Momori, think of her as âextra hard mode.â She was raised as an assassin for a cult. Specifically, she was raised as the leaderâs right hand and eventual executioner, which is all kinds of messed up given how attached to him she was after her mentorâs death. That sort of conditioning does not simply go away. It is embedded as a part of her! And being shown some kindness WILL sway her, but it will not sway her from whatâs become her lifelong obsession - serving the Ashwoken.
This particular end is FIRMLY my fault! Plenty others offered her alternatives, and Iâm extremely thankful that a character like this was shown empathy despite everything she did. She IS unhinged, cruel, and violent, but these stem from her upbringing. I am always hoping players choose kindness, that âevilâ is not so clear cut, and that true bravery is offering others the chance to try again. Yet that doesnât mean Momori can be excused. She has killed countless, put Ulâdah at risk, never had the time to leave the Silver Scholars and thus, is still entrenched in their thinking. Given what she had at hand ( a shortcut to gain power and cut away old burdens, at the cost of...her own agency. And if she doesnât take the shortcut, she dies a slow death and doesnât accomplish her goals), combined with her intense personality, it was pretty clear to me what sheâd choose.
In the DISTORTION campaign, there was a vote to determine sides, between Momori and Florus. I think that even if Momori was chosen, that wouldâve only extended her runtime for a while longer, which couldâve led to a different end, but only maybe! Buying her time just means more opportunities for growth, but thatâs pitted against my own relentless need to run campaigns and tie things into existing characters. Characters that have villainous and selfish tendencies.
But killing characters is a selfish thing to do because others get invested. Old conversations, relationships - where does that all go? Do you start over? All I can do is apologize, and say that Momoriâs influence (like Aiswydaâs) is not something that will disappear. It will continue to impact the narratives that I write. Hopefully one day when I retire a character, theyâll ACTUALLY get a happy ending, but Iâve got a bad track record so far hahahaha
Iâm so sorry. Iâm just insane. OTL
Thank you for rping with this dry-as-hell murder lalafell. I hope you had fun, because I had a lot of fun writing for her!
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Execution
An OFFICIAL (an uppity dunesfolk lady in her forties, wearing an ankle-length robe) steps out from a path on the left. She is followed by an EXECUTIONER (a burly dunesfolk man with a serious frown set on his face), several GUARDS, and finally, MOMORI (a dazed dunesfolk woman in her thirties, red hair tipped with white).
The OFFICIAL pauses for a second to take in a deep breath. Then she presses onwards, stepping out onto a sandstone stage where a chopping block has been arranged. Beneath the stage, a sizable CROWD looks on, waiting for justice like starved hyenas. The OFFICIAL, EXECUTIONER, GUARDS, and MOMORI take their place on the stage.
OFFICIAL
Rejoice, for today we gather to witness an end to a great threat to Ulâdah. Our precious and ever bountiful Jewel of the Desert.Â
The OFFICIAL steps back, allowing the GUARDS to push MOMORI forward by the shoulder. She stumbles like a zombie, eyes clouded.
OFFICIAL
We gather to witness the rightful execution of Momori Mori, the last standing member of the Silver Scholars. This organization has been brought to light as a gang of terrorists, plotting the downfall of our beloved city state for over a hundred years.
A member of the CROWD boos, and it triggers a chain reaction. A droning and terrible sound rises from the masses. Someone tosses a rock at the stage, prompting the GUARDS into action. Through their efforts, a tense peace is reclaimed.
OFFICIAL
Do not fret, my good people! Justice will be served today, after the proper proceedings. We must recognize the extent of this criminalâs deeds, such that we may learn from this tale and inspire fear in the hearts of evildoers!
The OFFICIAL whips out her arm and straightens a sleeve. With poise, she pulls a scroll out of a fold of her robe and unravels it. The roll hits the ground and tumbles off the stage, leaving behind a long line of paper that starts at the OFFICIALâs hands and ends in a puddle of muddy water. The OFFICIAL clears her throat.
OFFICIAL
Ordered by severity, we start at the top. For orchestrating a plot disguised as a public works project, that would have set a powerful elemental golem loose in the city. A plot that would have razed Ulâdah to the ground and built a new âparadiseâ atop our ruins.
CROWD ONLOOKER A
Seven hells...
OFFICIAL
For coordinating and actively playing a role in the deaths of countless esteemed officials, philanthropists, businessmen, and other peoples of power for over a decade. Dodosayu Cocosayu, former executive officer of the Oasis Trust. Nanachace Qaqachace, former Captain of the Brass Blades of the Violet. Pupuga Puga, former reporter for the Mythril Eye. Osasa Osa, former heir to the Sage Branch Traders.
CROWD ONLOOKER B
She poisoned my husband!
CROWD ONLOOKER C
Think thatâs bad? She ruined my business and then had me shoveling shit for a living! Whispered in the ears of my customers until none would even come close!
OFFICIAL
Bubujo Bujo, former priest of the Arrzaneth Ossuary. Ealric Proctor, former liaison of the East Aldenard Trading Company. Botilda Lush, former coordinator of the Sultanate non-profit for Ala Mhigan resettlement.
CROWD ONLOOKER D
She stole my keepsake! Said sheâd repair it, but now I know...the amulet I have isnât the one my late mother gave me! A fake!
CROWD ONLOOKER E
Whatâs thievery compared to murder? She killed my father. Death wonât be enough for all sheâs done...Justice! I demand justice!
The CROWD is becoming riled up again. One particularly brave stranger attempts to climb the stage. It takes twice the amount of effort from last time for the GUARDS to reestablish order.
GUARD
(To the OFFICIAL) Perhaps we should summarize the rest.
OFFICIAL
(Shaken) A-ah. Yes. So, brushing pass murder, Momori Mori is also guilty for the following crimes. Theft, assault and battery, fraud, bribery, blackmail...ahem. Counterfeiting, trafficking, extortion, forgery, money laundering, interfering with the due process of law, use of forbidden magicks, er...
The OFFICIAL has been reading through the list as quickly as she can, pulling it up until the tail end flies out of her hands. The long sheet of paper settles in a pile by her feet.
OFFICIAL
Much of which was done through the legal front of a non-profit. For all these crimes and then some...If you would.
A GUARD pushes MOMORI against the chopping block, her cheek pressed against its surface, her neck exposed. The skin that peeks out from underneath her bandages is marred with swooping lines, a distinct eye motif formed over and over on her limbs like oversized fingerprints. Her hair spreads across her face in a tangle of knots, bright red strands fading to white. Even now, she stares forward with dim eyes.
OFFICIAL
No gift of gold could ever remove the stain upon your soul. May Thal bar you from entering the afterlife for your sins.
The EXECUTIONER raises his ax. It hangs in the air for a swollen second, then slams down against the chopping block. A hush falls over the CROWD.
OFFICIAL
Praise the Twelve.
MOMORI is dead.Â
Her body and head are taken away separately.
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Oyasumi, Momori
Outwardly, Momori is unchanged. Even now, the scars and spiraling cuts on her body still bleed and stain fresh bandages black. The skin-covered horns on her head have remained the same size and, like always, sheâs locked in place in meditation, eyes shut and body bound in excessive chains. Itâs been this way for several moons, but it canât be like this forever. Momori sees an end.
In a weekâs time, sheâs to be publicly executed.
The thought is pushed to the back of her mind and she pictures herself alone in a dark space. She wields a one-handed scythe and swings it at a projected target, the bone weapon ringing on impact. Fissures form on its surface. Momori hops back with a huff and gives the imperfect weapon an wary stare.
âUntil we make the oath, Iâm afraid that weapon is useless,â a low voice rumbles from the dark. Momori tips her head up.
âCome, now. Iâve killed with far worse,â she cooly replies, tossing the broken scythe away. âWith a pencil, once.â
From the darkness, a small voidsent materializes. Itâs a faceless, fleshy lump thatâs more tail than body, suspended in the air on impossibly small wings. It floats to Momoriâs shoulder.
âI-Isnât that a bit excessive? I donât remember training the scholars to kill with makeshift weapons,â the voidsent murmurs.
âIâm just joking. Of course I didnât,â Momori says. After a pause, she continues. âA pencil is very brittle and thin. That simply adds to the challenge.â
If the voidsent had a face, it would frown at that. Itâs hard to differentiate between when Momori is joking or simply recounting the truth in a grimly humorous manner. Itâs tasteless either way.
â...Ahem. To speak on more pressing matters, dragging out our oath to the last minute is risky. If our transformation isnât done by execution time, then we really could die,â the voidsent warns. âThis is unlike you, Momori. Youâve never been the sentimental type, especially when this kind of risk is involved.â
âI think anyone would be hesitant. After the oath, you and I wonât exist in the same capacity that we do right now,â Momori says while taking a seat on the ground. âYou told me itâs like blending colors. If I were red and you blue, then...the soul that results would be like violet. An expression of its parts but something wholly new.â
âYes. That, but...not quite that.â The voidsent similarly drops to the ground, curled up on the floor like a cat. âWeâll form the inner voices of the new entity, so in a way, weâll still exist. Itâs just that we would no longer be able to directly influence the world.â
Momori snorts. âThatâs even worse. Iâll have no one but you to keep me company while we drive blind.â
âFeh. The feeling is mutual,â the voidsent replies.
Awkwardly, theyâre aware of how their goals are misaligned, meaning that both are prepared to fight for influence over their combined self. Momori is confident that sheâll win, and the voidsent begrudgingly thinks so too...but that doesnât mean it wonât do its best to prevent disaster. This wordlessly hangs over their heads, anticipation manifesting as invisible pressure.
âWell. Enjoy these precious last moments, Momori,â the voidsent eventually says. âYou canât go back after the oath. Or, rather, this...instance of you canât go back.â
The silence stretches, as boundless as the darkness that surrounds them. Momori hugs her knees to her chest.
âIt was a good life,â Momori says.
âDo you mean that?â
Momori reconsiders the question carefully, and then laughs.
âNo, but I would not change a moment of it,â she finally answers. The voidsent bumps against her thigh with its horn.
âOftentimes, parents face extreme adversity in the hopes that their child will have a brighter future. In a way, what weâre about to do is the same. Our hopes and dreams will live on, and then, the best we can do is guide them.â The voidsent sounds a little sad. â...I know you love the Ashwoken, but I hope we donât turn out that way.â
âHis will, my hands,â Momori responds on instinct. âIâll bring him back. And afterwards, you can...we bring back your version, too.â
The voidsent lets out a sigh. No matter how much it tries to convince Momori that sheâs asking for the impossible, she wonât have it. That powerful will is going to be even more of a nightmare to deal with after the oath, but perhaps in time, sheâll come around.Â
âWeâll cross that bridge when we get there...together,â the voidsent finally says.
She rests a hand on top of the voidsentâs head and they sit there until the two of them blur into the darkness. The end of one cycle comes the start of another, but maybe this time, it wonât end in tragedy? All one can do is hope.
âTogether?â Momori quietly echoes with a slight smile.
â...together, then.â
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Unlalafells the lalafell
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Source: The Girl From the Other Side: SiĂșil, a RĂșn / Totsukuni no Shoujo
ăšă€ăă«ăźć°ć„łÂ
by NagabeÂ
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@cparrisartâs character template, for Momori!
Source: https://twitter.com/cparrisart/status/1475535559984656392
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âWe get attached to temporary things, then wonder why our happiness never lasts.â
â Unknown
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For kin of ash and stolen time,Â
their memory beneath sand.Â
For the future and forevermore,Â
ever shall I stand.
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Monster
In a process akin to stabbing a buzzing fly with a needle, Momori has finally done it. Of course, seeing as sheâs still triple-locked down in the bowels of Ulâdah, one wonders exactly what she can accomplish in such lonesome captivity. The once mighty Momori, separated from every source of power...weapons confiscated, connections severed, movement inhibited through countless chains. But even if the cell door was left ajar and the way made clear, Momori is certain she wouldnât make it past the barracks in her sickly state, nor does she have any desire to leave.
Bound in body, but not in soul. Every second has been spent exploring the shifted depths of her own mind.
Underneath the steady sting of pain was a niggling and vague feeling. Something off, something foreign, and yet something familiar. The sensation nagged at her incessantly, flitting away the moment she got close to identifying it, and so she split her focus. Compartmentalized physical and spiritual woes into sections and poured her energy inward, determined to scratch this itch once and for all. She is not often surprised, but what she finds gives her pause.
Within her heartâs symbolic abyss is a faceless creature the size of a carbuncle, fleshy skin twisted in knots and tail soot-black with blood. It hovers in the air on featherless wings, head drawn forward in a silver yoke, gazing at her with its eyeless maw. Thatâs adorable, she thinks. Somehow, the creature hears.
âYou have always been a strange one, Momori, but for both our sakes, I ask that you send such unseemly thoughts to the deepest pit of your soul and set them ablaze. Adorable does not befit me,â the creature rumbles, voice echoing throughout her head. She canât keep her brows from furrowing.
âYou know of me, then,â she flatly states.
âKnow of you? I know you, Momori,â the thing corrects her, voice dripping with dry disappointment. âMy wayward daughter and most trusted blade.â
Her frown deepens. The appearance of the creature coupled with its words all but confirm her suspicions and yet, she struggles to come to terms with them. If this was truly her fatherâs demon, then why had she toiled so? What was the point of the ritual meant to destroy it? Had she failed again, or --
âMomori, stop.â
She blinks back at the creature and wishes she could get a read on it. Lacking eyes, its mood remains a mystery.
âI have wondered about the same thing. Why my tenuous connection to the source persists, why I have been tethered to you...what manner of contract exists between us.â The creature lazily floats upside down, its long tail trailing after it in mirrored loops. âI donât know why I am still here when we had both agreed to say goodbye.â
âWe? You mean my father and you?â she asks.
The thing is silent for a long while and it gives no indication of having heard Momori, slowly drifting through the air in repetitive circles. And so Momori repeats herself, firmly. Demanding answers. âYou are my fatherâs demon, correct?â
â...Hm.â It contemplates Momori again. âIt is more accurate to say that we, together, were the Ashwoken. That together, we were your father.â It tilts its head at her from a low angle. âBut the Ashwoken is no more. Separated as we are, I am but one half of a whole, and I dare say youâve been left with the lesser piece.â
âNo,â Momori plainly states, both annoyed and envious of how comfortably the creature dares speak about her father. As if it understood him better than her. âNo. My -- the Ashwoken is a man from Silâdih. He is a Dunesfolk and he is his own person and you are nothing but a tool to him.â She leaves out a whisper of a thought echoing in her mind: a tool, just like me. â...Perhaps you are here because I swore to make his burdens my own, being his most trusted confidant and all.â
The creature simply peers at her like a wall. She wonders if it could be smiling, or frowning, or just. Anything. Only its voice gives any indication of feeling. âHah! Silly girl. You and your stubborn conviction...There is much you do not know about my better half. For starters, I donât recall us ever giving you his name.â
âI care not for old demons from the past,â she says, a tinge of irritation creeping into her throat. âYou were on the cusp of possessing him and that is why I performed the ritual. Therefore, you and my father must be separate entities. Must.â
âI cannot deny the effect my presence had on him over time, and how that manifested in us as the Ashwoken. But believe what you will...you cannot deny the truth forever.â It drifts over her shoulder while Momori continues to look forward, gaze fixed on the black space beyond. âNow, if you see me as a tool, then by all means use me like one; for our goals are one and the same, are they not?â
âSo what is your goal?â
âTo see him restored.â
âAh.â Momori frowns again, unable to trust the demon. âYou mean him, the Ashwoken. The visionary and wise man that saw my worth despite my heritage, who honed me with years of strict guidance. A decision maker for all, no matter the cost.â Her words come out stilted as they stumble over doubt. She doesnât know why her conviction wanes.
â...By the time we found you, Momori, we were already long sick with decay. The Ashwoken you so fondly remember was a broken hybrid of void-begotten instincts and undying loathing. No, I would restore him as he was before. A soft-spoken scholar whose kindness knew no bounds.â The creature swirls and a ghostly image takes shape - of a Dunesfolk man with burgundy hair tipped in gray, silver eyes gleaning pleasantly in the darkness, twin nubs sticking out of his head just like Momori.
Momori immediately dislikes what she sees. This faintly familiar man, this subversion of the father she treasures above all else. There is no recognition behind his eyes for her. He is not worn or broken or vengeful because he is the Ashwoken before his suffering...before her. She will not have it, no. Momori knows her father and this early version of him is not what she wants.
She mysteriously finds herself clenching a sickle of blackened bone and she points it at the memory before her, then at the demon. âI will never go along with your...your mercy. I seek not to bring back a shade of my father, but the entire thing, despair and all.â
âDo you not hear yourself? You would subject him to hundreds of years of pain just to fulfill your selfish desires? That is not love, that is obsession!â The demon huddles behind its mirage as Momori advances, sickle drawn menacingly. She dispels it with a determined slash and then pins the demon down beneath her blade, red eyes glowing menacingly in the darkness. She is the monster here.
âA kind master you shall not find...â
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Updated reference + class change! (Ninja/reaper hybrid)
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Closer video produced for the DISTORTION campaign
How It Ends by Horace Bray
I'm paralyzed
Let it consume me
The shadows of what I've done
A bitter end to a bitter song
Is this how it ends?
With a flicker of how it began
An old tale, lost in time
Without an answer or reason why
Oh, why?
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Cat and Mouse
Momori wakes up to darkness. It's the middle of the night, and slowly, a muted realization falls onto her. The Silver Scholars, ARTIFEX, her father - theyâre all gone. Thereâs nothing left but the empty ache of failure and the even more real pain radiating from her wounds. She channeled far too much of the Ashwokenâs power despite knowing the consequences...or, perhaps, she had done just so, in the hopes of joining him?
Despite all her conviction, despite her toughness, Momori couldnât do it. She couldnât kill her father. Instead, she had dragged her feet and stalled. At every opportunity, she convinced herself to wait - just another moment, in case the Helm hadnât finished its work! But seconds turned into minutes until finally, without a doubt in the world, it was too late.
One last great failure to cap off a string of mistakes. Now, sheâs recuperating in the clinic of the company she tried to kill. Funny how fate works sometimes. Momori tries to move her body and finds it tight with toxins, skin peeking black from underneath bandages. Sheâs watched enough of her peers fall victim to this to know what happens next. Death would come eventually.
...Though sheâs surprised that sheâs still hanging on. Maybe something is different this time.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the soft sound of someone trying their damndest to enter the clinic and sneak over to her cot. But sheâs awake and aware of their presence, waiting and watching their shadow linger on the other side of the curtain partition. Momori wonders if she should play dumb or say hello.
âHello,â she says without a second thought.
The shadow noticeably jolts, shoulders jumping to meet their ears. Whoever waits on the other side clearly knows that theyâve been discovered, and yet they continue to fidget, consumed with anxiety. Momori hums to herself and guesses who it is.
âFlorus, I see you,â she points out. But even thatâs not enough to lure the man from his âhiding spot.â So Momori begins to make a âpspspspsâ sound, as if he were some kind of animal. His outline stiffens, and she laughs lightly at the reaction. âCome on out, little marmot. I wonât hurt you.â
It has its intended effect. Florus angrily pulls back the curtain and stomps over to her before remembering, oh right, heâs trying to be sneaky. He stands at her bedside for a minute, during which Momori briefly considers falling back asleep. Sheâs very tired and, even now, has no patience for inefficiency. But finally, he says what heâs come to say in a harsh whisper.
âYou should be fucking dead.â
âBy all rights,â she agrees.
âWhy did they spare you?â
âSame reason that they keep you around, little marmot,â she yawns.
Her lax attitude sets Florus off. He raises a trembling hand, looks at his palm, then glances back to Momori. She smiles slightly.
âAnd you would finish the job while Iâm weak?â She asks him. âSmart boy. Itâs what I would do.â
After some hesitation, he leans over and laces his fingers around her neck. Now, she can feel his heartbeat pounding through his grip, breath hot against her cheek. Thereâs a wild look in his eyes, frantic and desperate and determined. She doesnât blink. She doesnât want to miss a second of this.
âGo ahead. Squeeze,â Momori reminds him. And he does, for a moment, but thereâs a limit to how hard he grabs. She glances up at him, equal parts amused and annoyed. âI canât hurt you now. Why are you scared?â
âI donât know what youâre fucking talking about,â he murmurs. But when his voice betrays him, Momori begins to study the Garleanâs face in earnest. Heâs still prey, she thinks. Heâs never killed someone before with his own hands. How hilariously privileged. How dreadfully sheltered.
âFear is a good look on you, Florus. But I wonder, what kind of delicious expression would you make with a knife twisted in your gut?â She whispers into his ear. He hears a perverse smile in her words. âNotch by notch, ilm by ilm, youâll feel your fibers snap. Then youâll know that we are nothing but blood and bones.â
His grip wavers, and in that moment, Momori summons all her strength to lurch forward in her bed. The sudden motion sends him scampering back, eyes wide in terror. With that, Momori laughs. She laughs until she falls back into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. Florus eventually catches his breath and takes a shaky seat at the far corner of her bed, quiet. His silence speaks volumes.
âItâs been fun, hasnât it? Our little game of cat and mouse,â Momori reminisces to the ceiling, and when Florus doesnât respond, she continues. âThough I suppose, in the end, we both lost. We both lost, and we both changed. How funny is that?â
âYouâre a goddamn sociopath....Youâve killed countless people, and you call it a game? Are you serious?â He quakes, voice beginning to rise. âYou canât do this. You canât use people like pawns.â
Momori looks down at Florus. He glances back at her nervously.
âItâs been fun. We should play again sometime,â she replies. Florusâs breath hitches at the suggestion as heâs stunned into a silent horror. But now alone and without the Scholars, Momori knows that she has to play her hand carefully. Better to let others do the work for her.
â...Lucky for you, Iâll give you a head start. I want to take it easy for a while. Go soul searching, see the world, taste new flavors. Whatever it is normal people do,â she sleepily trails off, eyes fluttering back shut. âGoodnight, little marmot. When the time comes, youâll know.â
Momori feigns sleep for several minutes, and during that time, Florus remains as still as a statue. He barely moves, barely even breathes. Finally, after letting out a strained breath, he gets up and stumbles away. Momori feels the edge of her mouth perk up. Heartwood would keep him safe until then. For now, she sleeps.
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SHE LIVES ))
DISTORTION FINALE QUESTS
Prepare yourselves for a deadly gauntlet weeks in the making. All of the Silver Scholarâs aether channels intersect at a singular point, and at that point waits ARTIFEX, a terraformer of untold elemental destruction. With this weapon, the Scholars plan to raze Ulâdah to the ground and build a new paradise atop its smouldering ruins. Suspecting that an A11Y core sits at the center of this monstrosity, Florus (for once) disregards his own safety and accompanies Heartwood to the battlefield in order to shut down this twisted creation once and for all.
All that you have done in past missions cascade to this moment. Sabotaged golem pieces, ARTIFEXâs incomplete elemental prowess, the allies at your sideâŠbut is it enough?
Summary:
Though Heartwood strikes first, ARTIFEX proves too mighty to destroy in a single blow. The odds become dire when the golem is backed up by an army of Scholar rogues, preventing the party from stopping it from firing a devastating laser! But with the surprise help of A11Ys from the past, the beam is deflected and they distract the Scholars, allowing Heartwood to focus on defeating ARTIFEX. In order to access the golemâs core, its arms must first be destroyed - a difficult task, as each limb wields elemental power and borrows combat skills from a member. But after a grueling battle, it is done. With the center exposed, a massive explosion shatters ARTIFEX into pieces, and the Silver Scholarâs plans are finally thwarted.
Victory does not come for free. Only two A11Ys survive the fight, and most members return home wounded. And in this half-injured state, Heartwood would have to dive right back into the frayâŠ
Full Logs Here!
Ulâdah is saved, ARTIFEX is destroyed, and Heartwood is vindicated. The Silver Scholars are led away in chainsâŠHowever, the Scholarâs leader (the ever mysterious Ashwoken), Momori Mori, and the Helm are nowhere to be found. Theyâre revealed to be hiding in ancient Silâdihn ruins found deep beneath Ulâdah, about to conduct a dark ritual of inheritance. The injured donât have time to heal fully. You must rush and stop Momori before itâs too late.
Words from Jujumiâs fairytale echo in your head - Her name will unlock the way. Let these cycles come to an end.
Summary:
Heartwood steps into an ancient Silâdihn sanctuary to find Momori mid-fight against other members. Behind her, the Ashwoken conducts a mysterious ritual with the Helm. Determined to buy the Ashwoken as much time as possible, Momori fights Heartwood to the endâŠand yet, despite all her attempts to kill them, she is shown mercy. So when the Ashwoken turns from Lalafell to voidsent, Momori decides to lend the company her blades, bidding them to destroy the demon and save the day. After a brutal fight set against darkness, the company barely pulls ahead, silver daggers stabbed deep into the Ashwokenâs heart. When it dies in a burst of black steam and stolen light, an old cycle of vengeance is finally broken. The Ashwoken and his Scholars could threaten Eorzea no longer.
The Helm, though broken, is Heartwoodâs to take. Meanwhile, Momori clings to life, permanently changed. Like Florus, her eyes have been opened to new possibilities. Life is worth seeing through, she thinks to herself. It is worth the struggle.
Full Logs Here!
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Ul'dah
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"Maybe I'm just too broken to feel anything that makes sense. "
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