#floating city of nym | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sheepwithspecs · 7 months

Text

Architects of the Ashes: Chapter 1

|| FFXIV || Rated M || (1 / ???)

Ao3 Link

At the edge of the known universe, the Warrior of Light's simple wish has some unintended consequences. Now it's up to Eachna—and her many friends at the Last Dregs—to help a newly reconstructed Zenos learn how to be a better person. Fortunately for him, his mirror isn't the best role model when it comes to playing by the rules.

“One small organ that beats hard enough to shake the universe─ a spark of hope to shape a star.” - N-7000

Deep in the desert of my heart, a lonely flower blooms—

Although Tataru had never set foot on Ultima Thule, her favorite ballad echoed across the barren landscape of dead stars. It drifted above the sandy dunes of the Ea, whose people had long ago forgotten what it felt like to vibrate one’s vocal chords in a rhythmic and pleasing manner. It echoed in the craggy cliffsides of Reah Tahra, where dragons in decaying nests recalled the long-lost days when they, too, had lifted their voices together in song.

Yearning for the heavens above—

The refrain reached Base Omicron, sensors and satellites alight with its warbling vibrations. Military units paused in their daily tasks, clawed hands grasping at the air as they processed the foreign noise as illogical data. The only song heard in this place was of utter despair, not love.

To quench my thirst for you—

In the Last Dregs, the melody was finally lost amidst the clanking platters and rattling silverware. The only one able to hear its faint stirrings was possessed of large, furry ears.

“Hmm?” Jammingway turned, tilting their head and cupping one ear to better hear over the buzz of multiple conversations. Closing their eyes, they focused on the tiny voice that seemed to call from beyond the very stars themselves.

“Analysis?” N-7000 joined them at the edge of the café’s large stone steps, hovering in place as it waited for the Loporrit to speak.

“Unless my ears deceive me—and it’s rare they do—that sounds an awful lot like Eachna.” N-7000 whirred, gears churning as it scanned the distant horizon.

“Affirmative,” it replied, after a moment’s processing. “Approaching life-form from the ship Ragnarok meets appropriate specifications for classification as allied unit D’arcy, Eachna. Estimated time of arrival: one bell.”

“Mother be praised!” Jammingway cheered, pumping their furry fist with excitement. “Perfect timing, too! You couldn’t ask for a better day for a picnic; not an astromagnetic storm in sight. I’ll go right now and start a fresh batch of carrot soup.”

“This unit does not understand the motive behind such actions.” N-700 buzzed thoughtfully. “Allied unit Eachna has shown an average satisfaction rate of 27.4% for carrot soup. Alternate menu items guaranteed to achieve optimum satisfaction rates: roast hamsa, seaweed salad, braised—”

“What are you talking about, you bucket of bolts? Everyone loves carrot soup!”

_______________________________________________

Eachna panted as she climbed the sprawling structure above Base Omicron, one hand rubbing at the persistent stitch in her side. The rock-strewn path zigzagged beneath her boots, precarious footholds anchored by solid bridges of aquamarine crystal. In some ways, the fragmented landscape reminded her of the Floating City of Nym, although these floating structures were devoid of life yet. The few scrubby vines that sprouted among the stones were brown and dried, crumbling to ashen powder beneath her heels.

At last she crested the final rise, standing on the solid expanse of barren land that bordered the abandoned plaza. The Last Dregs glowed brightly in the perpetual twilight, a true beacon of hope outshining everything for malms around. Even the fluorescent lights of the Omicron base weren’t half as bright. She quickly passed through the dusty plaza, drawn to the golden warmth that seemed to emanate from the café.

As she approached, she realized that the number of customers had nearly tripled in size since her last visit. Shadows danced along the curved shelves as Elysion’s inhabitants passed through the café, milling about on the stone steps and leaning against the round pillars as they conversed with one another. Omicron units hovered from station to station, waiting tables and explaining the menu to curious patrons. Other units scanned the finished diners as they bussed the tables, cataloguing the different gustatory sensations before delivering them to groups of delighted Ea.

A Karellian soldier, seated at a table of friends and former enemies, noticed her and waved cheerfully. Eachna waved back, the hairs on her bare arm lifting as a levin-charged Miw Miisv drifted aimlessly by. A ghostly dragon took to the skies, soaring high with an echoing roar. Her mouth watered at the rich scent of freshly ground coffee carried on its pale wings.

She couldn’t help but smile, cheeks dimpling at the sight of so many people. For untold ages, despair had held full sway over this empty land; now, both the café and its patrons were thriving. If Stigma-4 continued to create replicas from the dead stars, Ultima Thule would be filled to flowing with new life in no time at all.

N-7000 might call it a job well done, but it was so much more than that. The Last Dregs was standing proof of convictions she’d held for ages, ones so deeply rooted that it was near impossible to convey in words. Her heart swelled in her chest, fit to burst with the overwhelming rightness of it all.

“Eachna!” Jammingway called to her from the café entrance, waving with both arms as they ran towards her. “Welcome back, it’s been far too long!”

“Correction,” N-7000 buzzed, floating a half-step behind. “It has been exactly seven moons, two weeks, four days—”

“Oh, hush! You know what I meant, Forky!” Eachna couldn’t help but laugh at the scrunched little scowl on their face. “And anyway, who’s counting?”

“It has been a long time,” she conceded, kneeling down to clasp Jammingway’s proffered paws. “I can see the Last Dregs is doing well for itself. There’s not an empty table in sight.” Her lips quirked as she caught sight of a quivering Ea, clearly overcome by the culinary sensation it was experiencing. Its fellows bombarded it with countless questions, gelatinous heads detaching to float above the Omicron barista’s dome.

“Isn’t it a dream come true?” Jammingway gushed. “Even the Nibirun have settled in and made themselves at home. I actually caught one laughing the other day—laughing! It’s better than I could have ever imagined; the place practically runs itself. Not that I need you taking that as another sign to hibernate,” they added, glancing accusingly at N-7000.

“Fret not. Hibernation is not within this unit’s near future.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Eachna laughed. “All of it, really.” Turning, she looked again at the patrons enjoying their meals. The golden light blurred and she blinked in surprise, reaching up to find that tears were building at the corners of her eyes. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, heart pounding almost painfully in her chest.

Thanks to Meteion, she had suffered alongside these people. She had watched their destruction, felt their anguish, mourned their deaths. Their undying despair had wrenched her heart in twain more than once during her journey to the center of the dying sun. Some had inspired pity, others anger. But every last one of them had been in immeasurable pain. Even the Nibirun, who chose peaceful death over a life with no purpose, had been in pain.

To see them now, knowing where they had once been…. Jammingway was right: it was a dream come true. They deserved this second chance at life, to make right the wrongs which had led to their destruction. They deserved to learn and grow, to achieve happiness for its own sake. She turned her eyes to the vast star above the café, the wellspring of pain that had served as Metion’s nest. How many memories remained inside, trapped by the twisted dynamis of their own despair?

I want them all to have this second chance. Every last one of them.

“And anyway,” Jammingway prattled on, oblivious to her musings, “since you’re here, I thought we might have a picnic! I packed all the best foods the café has to offer. We have carrot soup, carrot salad, carrot juice, carrot cake—”

“Oh… erm, that’s… that’s great!” Eachna managed a smile, brows knitted in consternation. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

“Be at ease.” N-7000 fairly vibrated with something akin to self-righteousness. “Unlike certain annoying life-forms, this unit took allied unit Eachna’s satisfaction rate into account when choosing appropriate sustenance.”

“Hey! What are you saying?” Jammingway fumed. “Eachna loves carrots just as much as I do! Don’t you?”

“I don’t hate carrots, per se….”

“Allied unit Eachna’s average carrot consumption does not exceed one half of her nutritional intake. As such, this unit took the liberty of adding—” N-7000 trailed to a stop, hovering silently with one arm outstretched.

“With what!? Just what have you added?” Jammingway insisted, stomping their feet. “If you’ve squashed my carrot cake by crowding the basket, I’m going to be very cross!”

“New life has arrived in Elysion.” N-7000 whirred, effectively ignoring Jammingway’s one-sided tirade. “Repeat, new life has arrived in Elysion. Scanners indicate only one life-form at this time.”

“What? Only one?” The carrot cake was completely forgiven—or forgotten for the time being—as Jammingway immediately shifted into entrepreneur mode. “That’s odd. Normally they show up in groups. Still, you know what they say: where one is, more may follow. The picnic will just have to wait. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all!” Eachna secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Carrots were not her favorite by any stretch of imagination, but Jammingway seemed determined to believe that everyone loved the orange vegetable just as much as they did. Perhaps she could sneak away long enough to check the contents of this picnic basket for herself….

“That settles it, then!” Jammingway beamed, hands on their hips. “Lead the way, N-7000! Let’s go meet our newest friend!”

_______________________________________________

“Are you absolutely certain the new life form landed up here?” Jammingway balanced precariously atop N-7000’s chassis, shielding their eyes with one paw from the glaring light of the dynamis staircase. The summit of the dead sun was shadowy in comparison, the bed of Elpis flowers a faint glow in the near distance. “All I see are stairs, stairs, and more stairs.”

“Affirmative. New life-form scan readings indicate this as the proposed landing trajectory.”

“But I thought that Stigma-4 created the simulations,” Eachna said, practically jogging to keep pace as they climbed the endlessly winding stairs. “Does the star just… spit them out?” Jammingway shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Normally they find Elysion long before we find them.” They lurched, grabbing hold of N-7000s rabbit ear accessories as the staircase grew steeper. “I wonder what sort of life-form we’ll meet this time? Do you recall any other civilizations from the Dead Ends?”

“I don’t think so.” All the civilizations she’d seen in the heart of the dead star were already café patrons: sweet, chubby Grebuloffs; armored, pedantic Karellians; graceful, nihilistic Nibiruns. As she pondered these strange races, she found her own curiosity rising alongside Jammingway’s. What would this new life-form look like?

Would they be large and powerful like the wraithlike dragons, or perhaps smooth and gelatinous like the Ea? Figure after figure flashed through her mind’s eye: malformed voidsent, gaunt sin eaters, bewhiskered kobolds, feathery Vanu Vanu, impish pixies… would this new person’s shape be something familiar, or wholly new? Would they be calculating, or emotional? Despondent, or hopeful?

Lifting her eyes towards the summit, Eachna stopped short at the sight of a weapon at the top of the staircase: a long, curved blade, wider than the span of her arm at its thickest and tapering to a razor-sharp point. It was attached to an even longer shaft, knocked sideways as though it had fallen from a great height only to lodge itself deep into the cracked earth. Her eyes traced the familiar bony plating along the blade’s outer edge, breath catching in her throat at the sight of a broken revolver cylinder hanging askew from the handle.

“Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Jammingway leaned forward eagerly, ears pricked and nose twitching. “Do you see them?”

“It can’t be.” The reaper stone seemed to burn a hole in the pocket of her knapsack, the collected aetheric signatures within drawn to the scythe at the top of the stairs. She gulped back the emotions threatening to overpower her, gorge rising and fingertips tingling at the memory of fighting to draw her bow with slippery, bloodstained hands. Her very muscles seemed to burn with a phantom ache, the echoes of a fight that ended only when the last flickering embers of her life could no longer withstand the onslaught.

“Eachna?” Jammingway looked at her strangely. “Are you alright? You look a little pale…. Well, you always look pale, especially here, but this is even worse—”

“Allied unit’s heart rate is increasing at an exponential pace—”

“It just can’t be!” Eachna took the remaining stairs two at a time, tripping on the topmost step in her rush and landing facefirst on the scorched earth. She stumbled to her knees, scraped palms burning as she brushed the stains from her trousers, and groaned aloud at the sight before her. “Oh, isn’t this just a—” Her tongue felt too large for her mouth, jaw working as she searched for the right oath to express the depths of her frustration.

“You!” she finally spat, picking up a handful of the ashen dust and flinging it—rather unsuccessfully—at the figure lying eagle-spread in a heap of crushed flowers. “Damn you to all seven bloody hells!”

“What’s the matter? Is it a— wait a minute!” Jammingway practically wilted on the spot. “That’s no alien life-form! That’s an Etheiryan!”

“Scanners indicate unconscious life-form is composed of dynamis,” N-7000 protested.

“Okay, okay! Don’t blow a gasket.” Jammingway slipped from the unit’s shoulders, dangling for a moment from one clawed appendage before landing deftly, if not gracefully, at its side. “So he’s a dynamis simulation. That still doesn’t explain what an Etheiryan was doing inside the dead star, nor how he came to be there in the first place.”

“Oh… that’s partly my fault.” Eachna winced. “We had a fight to the death, and I might have left him there? Accidentally?”

“You—a fight to—left him—” Jammingway’s look of abject horror gave way to weariness. “I don’t even know which part of that sentence to address first.”

“It’s not like I meant to do it!” Gathering her courage, she crept close enough to toe the heel of one heavy boot. She kicked at it lightly, watching for any signs of regaining consciousness. “Of all the people in all the worlds,” she sighed, “why did it have to be you?”

“Parameters for acceptable simulations of life-forms for Elysion were recently altered by fluctuations in dynamis,” N-7000 stated. “Cause of anomaly: allied unit Eachna.”

“Me!?” she echoed in dismay. “But I didn’t even do anything this time! And I certainly didn’t ask for him!”

“Through dynamis, you expressed a desire—a “wish”, as this overexcited life-form continues to insist—that all sentient beings within Ultima Thule might experience a second chance at life through simulated existence. As this life-form’s last documented location was well within parameters, he has been restored accordingly.”

“I can assure you, this is not what I meant.” Eachna’s shoulders slumped. “Does this even count as a second chance? It’s not really him,” she pointed out. “It’s just a copy.” Even as she spoke, she remembered how he had once transcended death using the power of the Resonance. Could such a thing possibly happen again?

“Regardless of intent, this life-form form now exists in the same capacity as all other life-forms within Elysion,” N-7000 answered. “Metaphysically, we are but memories recreated for the purpose of continued study by Stigma-4. Alternatively, philosophical debate documented between the Ea and the Nibirun suggest that the nature of said existence—whether or not we are “real”—is wholly reliant upon individual interpretation.”

“That means it’s really up to him in the end, isn’t it?” Jammingway mused. “Still, we probably ought to wait until he’s settled in before asking those sorts of questions. Just thinking about them is enough to give me a headache.”

“Cranial pain aside, this unit is in agreement.”

“That’s fine and all, but it still doesn’t help in this situation.” Eachna rubbed her eyes wearily. “You don’t realize what he’s capable of.” She let the knapsack slip from her shoulders, digging through the many pockets until she emerged with her battered codex. Flipping through pages of notes, she finally settled on one near the end and handed it to Jammingway. “This will tell you more than enough.”

“Archaic,” N-7000 buzzed, scanning the page and committing the contents to memory. “Assimilating data for future calculations—!! Results not favorable.”

“You’re not kidding!” Jammingway shook their head, paw sliding down the page as they read through the notes at a slower pace. “If this Zenos wakes up and decides to make Ultima Thule his new hunting grounds, all our hard work could be undone!”

“Calculated levels of despair exceed all known parameters.”

“My point exactly.”

“Query: what course of action should be undertaken?” N-7000 turned to Eachna, scratching its dome. “Immediate termination of life-form would directly oppose the mission objective.”

“That’s also not very fair, is it?” Jammingway closed the codex with a heavy thud. “If we judged every patron based on their past actions, the café wouldn’t have any clientele at all. And after all, you were the one who wanted everyone to have a second chance.”

“Agreed. This unit also acknowledges the accountability of allied unit Eachna.”

“Huh? Why me?!” Taken aback, Eachna raised her hands in an admittedly paltry defense. “What am I supposed to do about him? I can’t very well take him with me when I leave.”

“This is factual. In their current state, simulations would become highly unstable without an accessible form of dynamis. Departure is unadvised.”

“Bugger.” She gazed down at the Garlean prince, sprawled amidst the flowers. The expression on his face was calmer than she’d ever seen it, passive as though in deepest slumber. A part of her hoped that he might be dead, but even in the murky shadow she could see the regular rise and fall of his chest. Each breath stirred the fine blonde hairs trapped beneath his cheek, pale as death against the backdrop of his crumpled cloak.

“Alright,” she finally said. “This is what we’re going to do. N-7000, I want you to take this scythe and hide it somewhere. The café, Elysion, Base Omicron: I don’t care, just so long as it’s in a spot he won’t be able to access easily. We have to make sure he stays unarmed until I can convince him not to go around picking fights with anything that moves.”

“Affirmed. This unit will follow your orders to the best of its abilities.”

“Jammingway, can you make sure no one from the café comes anywhere near this area for a while?” She ran both hands through her curls, tangling them in her fingers and tugging as she thought. “Hopefully I’ll have a plan by the time he wakes up, but in any case it’s probably best that I speak to him alone first. I don’t want to fight him again unless I absolutely have to.” There was no guarantee that she’d be so lucky this time, without the Scions there to pull her back from the brink with their healing magics.

“You can count on me! I’ll make sure no one even looks in this direction until you give the signal!”

“As for me….” Eachna plopped down at his side, stretching her legs as she made herself comfortable. “You’re right. If I summoned Zenos, even by accident, that makes him my responsibility—at least for the moment. I’ll stay here until he wakes up. After that, whatever happens will simply have to happen.” Her tone was nonchalant, borderline cheerful; despite this, the flowers nearest her grew dull with unease.

“This unit would like to call your attention to the Gordhona Guardian located at the Last Dregs. Its protocols advise for the termination of rude intruders.”

“N-7000’s right.” Jammingway returned the codex, flapping their ears with a rosy smile. “If you get into trouble, just scream really loudly and we’ll come running to help. Okay?” She nodded, and together they watched as N-7000 wrenched the scythe from the earth, leaving behind a divot roughly the size of a small fissure.

“By the way, Eachna.” They stared openly at Zenos, nose twitching. “The way I understand it, we Loporrits have a different sort of society than the people on Etheirys. When he was helping us on the moon, Urianger told us all about the different type of relationships you all can have with one another. Some of them seemed relatively straightforward, but others were quite complicated.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“In the codex, you wrote that Zenos thought of you as his friend. But he also tried to kill you, and nearly succeeded.” Jammingway looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that a complicated sort of friendship?”

“I—” Before she could formulate a response, Zero’s words echoed in her mind. Zenos called you "friend." That's what you are? A friend? At the time, she’d been too startled at the sight of his avatar made flesh to say much on the subject. Even now, she had no clue what—or how—she felt about the fallen prince. Jammingway waited patiently for her answer, bright eyes unwavering.

“I think… that it was very complicated,” she agreed slowly. “Whether it still is remains to be seen.” Jammingway nodded, reaching out to pat her knee gently before following N-7000 down the glowing stairs. Eachna watched them leave, squinting until they were little more than two floating dots in a sea of shadows. She reached out and picked a flower, twirling the stem between her fingers as she thought.

Everyone deserves a second chance, the little voice in her head whispered. It often reminded her of Fray, only less bloodthirsty and more argumentative. But society so loves to force its arbitrary rules. Gaius serves Werlyt while Yotsuyu lies cold in the grave. Miracles happen every day, but Hermes will never regain what was lost. You yourself are torn between your brotherly love for Themis and the knowledge that you are destined to end his life. Why must one earn repentance while another suffers? What balance can be found in this mindless rule?

They earn repentance through their deeds, she argued, plucking the petals from the stem. By learning from the past and choosing to make amends.

Is that the case? Well, then: who are you to deny him that choice? You are his mirror, the reflection of what he can become. If he must learn, then teach him. If he needs growth, guide him.

And at the end, if he still chooses to dream of battle? What then?

Why, then you take responsibility.

“Seven hells,” she muttered, casting the petals aloft. With no breeze to bear them, they fluttered to land at her heels. “How am I supposed to teach you to behave?” she asked the sleeping figure, tracing his jawline with her eyes. “Are you even going to listen to me?” But towards you and you alone, he behaved...differently. And I cannot fathom why.

“I guess we’ll find out together.”

8 notes · View notes

crowdsourcedloner · 8 months

Note

20. Of all the places they've been to, which is their favorite? Do they like to go back there?

Nailah likes places that are quiet, out of the way, and private - all things that she looks out for while traveling. She takes these little nooks for her own and stores small supply caches in them, visiting whichever is closest whenever she needs some time to herself. Each cache has a small assortment of camping supplies and a kettle, complete with a pouch of dried tea leaves and enough cups to serve three people. She jealously guards the locations she finds and will move her caches if someone discovers it without her permission.

Her favorite spots are, in no particular order:

an out-of-the-way cliff in Mor Dhona, overlooking Silvertear Lake (G'raha stumbled upon it by accident during the Crystal Tower expedition, he was sworn to silence in exchange for the cache staying where it was. They both visit for cuddle sessions and stargazing.)

Outer La Noscea, near the floating city of Nym (She'll wander the ruins whenever she visits and rarely allows polite tonberry visitors to her camp.)

South Shroud, near the ruins of Amdapor and the border of Thanalan (Easy ruin access and relative proximity to two city states makes this a reliable stop for her.)

in the Royal Hunting Grounds of the Lochs (Fondness comes more from necessity here, as it was the only cache near Ala Mhigo and the Ghimlyt front.)

in the hidden plum spring in Yanxia (Hien showed her the location first, and she found the location so peaceful she made it her only Doman cache.)

on a cliff overlooking the Source lake in Lakeland (The view of the Crystal Tower is similar to her cache location back in Mor Dhona, and the nostalgia is comforting.)

#answered asks #thank you for the ask!#oc: hrothwol #if you cant tell i love the little hidden areas only accessible by flying/hard to find on a map #and finding reasons for my characters to go there is fun #she has way more caches than just this these are just the highlights

3 notes · View notes

eridaniastra · 9 months

Text

Glamshot time!

Summoner!

A very simple, yet effective outfit! I originally put this glam together for my Alt Eri Berri. I got the coat back when it wasn't easy to farm for (savage \o/) and finally got around to making an outfit that goes with it.

This was taken back before Endwalker when the towers appeared randomly all over the world. We were still trying to figure out wtf was going on, but Vivi saw an opportunity for a damn cool picture.

Outfit:

• Head - N/A

• Body - Alexandrian Coat of Casting (Alex Savage)

• Hands - Serpentskin Halfgloves of Casting (Crafted)

• Legs - Kupo Trousers (Firmament)

• Boots - Songbird Boots (Past Event - Mogstation)

Photo Location: Floating City of Nym - Outer La Noscea (X:12.6 Y:15.0)

#ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv screenshots #my wol #hyur midlander #hyur #ffxiv gpose #final fantasy 14 #summoner #glamshot

2 notes · View notes

desertleviathan · 2 years

Photo

So you may wonder what I’ve been up to for the several years since I was last active on this account? Mainly leveling every single class to the cap in Final Fantasy 14.

In order: 1.) Alchemist - Taken in Radz At Han, birthplace of Alchemy 2.) Armorer - Taken at Watts’ Anvil in Lakeland, where I helped a bunch of dwarves build little go-kart size tanks to sell to merchant caravans for guard duty 3.) Astrologian - Taken in Idyllshire, which was built on the ruins of the Sharlayan colony in Eorzea, which seemed appropriate since it’s the Sharlayan version of Astrology we learn as player characters 4.) Bard - Taken in the Sastasha dungeon, on the isle of Vylbrand, way back at the beginning of my tale as Warrior of Light 5.) Black Mage - Taken in the ruins of Mhach, birthplace of the Black Mage tradition, at the prison of Ozma, an excellent example of why magics originating in Mhach are largely forbidden now 6.) Blacksmith - Taken outside of my personal house in Ul’dah, where I spent several million gil crafting the Forge exterior 7.) Botanist - Taken in Nophica’s Altar in Old Gridania, to remind the Elementals that they’re on my shit list for letting their priests get away with so much racism in their names 8.) Carpenter - Taken in Ala Ghiri in the Peaks region of Ala Mhigo, which is my character’s home town, and where he first learned the basics of woodworking from his father 9.) Culinarian - Taken in my character’s private apartment which I have converted into a horrible seafood restaurant: “Cap’n Siege’s Chowder Sluice: ‘Til Sea Swallows All-You-Can-Eat! Limsa Lominsa’s most affordable fast-casual seafood dining experience!” 10.) Dancer - Taken in Kadjaya’s Footsteps in Thavnair, birthplace of the Dancer fighting style 11.) Dark Knight - Taken in front of the Crystal Tower in the Crystarium, where we became the Warrior of Darkness 12.) Dragoon - Taken on a cliff overlooking the city of Ishgard, birthplace of the Dragoon fighting style 13.) Fisher - Taken on the dock near the Fisher guild in Limsa Lominsa 14.) Goldsmith - Taken in the Lord of Vermillion game hall in the Gold Saucer, which involves battles between the little robots known as mammets, who are the most sophisticated products of the Goldcrafting skill 15.) Gunbreaker - Taken at the Bozjan Southern Front base camp overlooking Castrum Lacus Litore, where the Bozjan tradition of sword-that-is-a-gun fighting clashes with the Garlean tradition of sword-that-is-a-gun fighting 16.) Leatherworker - Taken at the Mol camp in the Azure Steppe, where those sheep are about to become saddles 17.) Machinist - Taken at the Parrock sky pirate base floating above the Abalathia’s Spine mountain range 18.) Miner - Taken at the jewelry merchant’s stall in Ul’dah 19.) Monk - Taken under the watchful gaze of Rhalgr’s statue in Rhalgr’s Reach, once a holy place to the Ala Mhigan monks 20.) Ninja - Taken at the Doman Enclave, homeland of the specific style of covert assassination and combat magic that we were taught 21.) Paladin - Taken on the Moon. You know, the Moon in the Sky 22.) Reaper - Taken at the Forum Solius park and playground in Garlemald, where the Reaper combat style was born and widely practiced, until it was pushed out of common use in favor of Magitek 23.) Red Mage - Taken at Siege’s home town of Ala Ghiri in the Peaks region of Ala Mhigo, with Nyunkrepf’s Hope in the background, the ark that features heavily in the origin story of Red Magic 24.) Sage - Taken in Old Sharlayan, on the docks overlooking the statue of Thaliak 25.) Samurai - Taken in Kugane on the roof of the Shiokaze Hostelry, overlooking the Sekeisegumi barracks, home to the aggressively shitty bunch of cops we learn this style of fighting from, on whom I look down both physically and morally 26.) Scholar - Taken in the Wanderer’s Palace (Hard) dungeon, which is the last remnant of the civilization of Nym, birthplace of the Scholar style of magic 27.) Summoner - Taken in Mor Dhona overlooking the Crystal Tower, a major relic of the lost civilization of Allag, where the Summoner style of magic originated. And also overlooking the remains of Midgardsormr,Father of All Dragons, and father specifically of Bahamut, who became the summoned monster at the heart of some of our most potent techniques 28.) Warrior - Taken in the battlefield to fight the Ultima Weapon in Castrum Centri at the climax of the original A Realm Reborn mission series 29.) Weaver - Taken in Eulmore, a place so greatly concerned with fashion that they force all travelers to take mandatory showers when they first arrive 30.) White Mage - Taken in the Lost City of Amdapor (Hard) dungeon, birthplace of White Magic

Not featured: Blue Mage, because I still have to finish the level 70 and 80 content, and I don’t really think of it as belonging to this set conceptually as a Limited Job

21 notes · View notes

amarigposes · 1 year

Text

Posing at the Floating City of Nym!

#ffxiv screenshots #lalafell #gpose #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #amari ami #solo gpose

6 notes · View notes

liminal-storage · 2 years

Text

Gravesong

Prompt 30: Sojourn

Characters: Okuni Tomioka, Abel Imbertain

Warnings: General mentions of death.

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

The journey from life to death is fraught, and what comes after is both painful and healing.

There are souls who time has forgotten, healing that has yet to begin for the lost. So many changes wrought the world, from Calamity to wars that should never have been fought. In the wake of death, life is the best way to honor the fallen. Yet, Okuni would make offerings to the forgotten. As would Abel, who gives honor to the old ways even without knowing why.

It’s a new tradition of theirs, one they’re only repeating for the first time since the previous year.

The two close the office for a full sennight and travel Eorzea to leave gifts for souls in oft-forgotten places.

He leaves offerings of good liquor at nameless grave markers in Coerthas where soldiers had to hastily bury their companions in the snow.

She casts handfuls of rattling honey locust seeds off of cliffs into the sea, so that they might shake out songs for those sailors still lost.

He scours the woods for burnt-out ruins of homes and the seared posts of tents, so that he might stake down colorful long ribbons amongst black cinders for the wind to whip into dancing.

She leaves armfuls of lilac blossoms at the sites of crumbled caves, and sends thousands more down the rivers at night. The children of Gelmorra and the sons and daughters of Menphina have never been given the chance to mourn their losses properly.

He ties tiny bundles of bioluminescent moss around branches while she winds strings of glass beads around mighty roots. The Shroud’s natives still meet with transgression and atrocity, and too many do not see. But the dark will see a lightshow, branches aglow and glass beads reflecting the moon’s pale light.

Together they walk the desert sands to leave bundles of dried fruits and meat at the mark of Azeyma, and handfuls of coin by the altars of Nald and Thal. The deserts are harsh and cruel, and souls are so easily taken.

She places baskets of apples amidst the crumbled stone near the Floating City of Nym, hoping the souls there have long since moved on.

He stops by a certain river in the Shroud where he buries his hat, sits by the water, and talks to someone who can no longer hear.

She passes by all of the places where people had touched her life and moved on for better or worse, and wishes the buildings that had housed them well.

After, they meet at The Bismarck and split the cost of a meal and talk about the journey. They speak of dazzling flocks of birds soaring over the sea, the sight of a doe and her fawn who’d stood to watch their journey. They speak of how beautiful the weather had been that day, the glimmering sun illuminating the process of their work. They speak of how the moon and stars will witness the glowing moss-lanterns on the trees, and how the flowers left behind will perfume the night.

They speak of how they’ve both changed, too. A tribute to pieces of themselves they’ve lost along the way.

#ffxivwrite2022 #and we're done!!#my writing #abel imbertain #{in the shadowbox}#Kuni Muinvel

4 notes · View notes

scrollsfromarebornrealm · 1 year

Note

Llymlaen, the Navigator

13. Is there a place they haven’t seen that they wish to see before they die?

14. Favorite place they’ve been to?

15. How adventurous is your character?

For Mathye (because I have a soft spot for salty grump)

13. Mathye has not seen the ruins of the Floating City of Nym, he'd like to see it at sunrise before he passes.

14. Currently a tie between Hingashi and Raz-at-Han.

15. Honestly in comparison to how he originally was, Mathye has found he's got a fairly wide adventurous streak. Leaving Ishgard was actually very good for him in terms of lessening stress--he was far more traumatized by the Dragonsong War as a healer than as a dragoon.

#ffxiv #ask meme

2 notes · View notes

soaring-minuet · 6 months

Text

I Have Loved You For A Thousand Years - Prologue.

Word Count: 1,306 Main Story Page.

Deryk couldn’t say for certain what had brought him to Gyr Abania on this particular day. Mayhaps he was simply following the wind, as was his wont. Or mayhaps it was simply a feeling . Whatever the case, he found himself wandering into Rhalgr’s Reach, a place held sacred by those who worshiped the aforenamed god of destruction. He had to admit, the locales that were dedicated to the worship of his brethren were some of his favorites on Etheirys. It pleased him to see the people continuing to show their faith in the Twelve. But the atmosphere in Rhalgr’s Reach today, however, was rather dismal. It was clear that something very serious had occurred shortly before his arrival.

Not wishing to alert anyone to his presence, Deryk pressed himself against a wall and folded his arms across his chest. Being among people had always been difficult for him, so he chose to instead gather information from bits of the hushed conversations that were taking place around him. It didn’t take long for him to gather that the Ala Mhigan resistance had been using the area as a base of operations and that the Garlean crown prince had launched an attack, leaving several resistance members either killed or badly injured.

One exchange in particular suddenly caught Deryk’s attention.

“And Aisling’s wound has become infected. I fear we may have to remove the arm, lest it spreads and puts her life in danger.”

Deryk’s ears perked up at this. Aisling had been the name of the child whose life Oschon had saved at the request of Menphina some time ago. The Wanderer found her severely burned from the forest fire that wiped out the entirety of her clan and brought her to the Omphalos, where he and the rest of the Twelve nursed her back to health. Once her injuries had healed, Oschon took it upon himself to teach her bowmanship in lieu of her clan. When it came time for her to be returned to the mortal realm, Nymeia gave her the gift of prophetic visions. And Oschon elected to take the form of a man known as Deryk, so he could better watch over the child on the entire pantheon’s behalf.

Over the subsequent years, Deryk had kept his promise and watched over Aisling as she grew into adulthood. It gladdened him to know that while she had become somewhat disillusioned with Nald’thal as she entered adolescence, her faith in Oschon never wavered. Nor did the sense of adventure he had instilled in her, as she would regularly travel to the Floating City of Nym to leave offerings for him, at first the various gems she’d find while mining and later her arrows once she took up archery again. Once she had joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Deryk had distanced himself somewhat, comforted in the fact that she had found a family. At this moment, however, he was wondering if that had been a mistake.

Mayhaps this is what brought me here , he thought.

His curiosity effectively piqued, Deryk took a glance around to make sure no one’s attention was on him before making his way over to the designated infirmary. He let loose the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he realized it was, at the moment, empty of chirurgeons. They were like as not taking a much needed break, he presumed. So he wordlessly crept through the rows of beds, keeping a watchful eye on the inhabitants. He felt his stomach drop when he eventually came to a bed with a dark-haired Miqo’te woman in it. He had no doubts that it was her .

Deryk took a cautious step to the bedside, a small frown visible on his features.

“It is you,” he said quietly.

He reached over to lightly place a hand against her forehead, his frown growing as he felt it burning up against his skin. It would seem that her situation was indeed dire. Wanting to see the injury for himself, he began carefully unwrapping the dressing from her upper left arm. He bit his lip gently once it was completely removed and he was able to witness the full grievousness of the wound, which ran from the base of her neck down to her elbow. It was a small miracle that her arm was still attached, though judging by the amount of pus leaking from the gash, it probably couldn’t remain for much longer.

Deryk took a step back to consider his options. The obvious one would be to simply let the chirurgeons amputate her arm, since even if she did somehow manage to fight the infection off, the chances of her making a full recovery with such a grave injury were bleak. But the thought of putting Aisling through such a life altering procedure wasn’t sitting well with him, especially after what she had already gone through as a child. Given her love of adventure, he worried that it would have a negative impact on her already precarious mental state; he knew full well that she still struggled from the trauma of losing everything at such a tender age.

Yet Deryk was not ignorant of the writing on the wall. There was a high likelihood that the infection would kill her if the arm wasn’t removed. Unless…yes, there was indeed a way to save both Aisling’s life and her arm. But it was something only he could do. He was unsure of the repercussions this would have among his brethren, but for what may have been his most cherished mortal, the benefits far outweighed any risk. So having made up his mind, Deryk stepped back to Aisling’s bedside. He reached out to gently place his fingertips against her arm, his lips curling into a small smile.

“You shall not die on the Wanderer’s watch, I promise you,” he whispered.

He then shut his eyes and swallowed a lengthy breath before transferring some of his own aether into Aisling. Countless millenia of worship had made all of the Twelve into incredibly powerful beings, so only a small portion of it would be enough to give Aisling the strength she needed to begin properly healing. It was the single greatest gift he could give to a mortal, but in his eyes, she had already suffered enough. Once the transfer was complete, Deryk moved his hand back to her forehead and was relieved to find that her fever had already gone considerably down.

He then rummaged around for some clean bandages so he could redress her wound, not wanting the chirurgeons to return and find it unwrapped. Satisfied, he was about just about to take his leave when another idea occurred to him. Deryk pulled out a mammet of his divine self that Nald’thal had made as a prank during an unusual bout of mischievousness and placed it on Aisling’s bedside table. He also manifested a replica of Oschon’s bow and placed it at her bedside, hoping that it would inspire her to keep up with her bowmanship.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment before searching for what he would need to leave her a short note:

Blessings be upon you for a continuous and fruitful journey. I am ever watching over you.

He signed it with the walking stick symbol associated with Oschon before leaving it underneath the mammet, hoping that Aisling would be the only one to see it. He finally took one last look at her, a soft smile gracing his features. Unable to help himself, he leaned over to gingerly touch his lips to her forehead.

“May the wind be ever at your back, my child,” he whispered.

Deryk then turned around and walked away from Aisling’s bedside, ready to again become one with the wind and allow it to guide him wherever it so desired.

Next Chapter.

#ffxiv #xivwriting #oschon x wol #deryk x wol #otp: fair winds #my writing

1 note · View note

justrobo · 2 years

Text

Lead coblyn ff14 location

#LEAD COBLYN FF14 LOCATION FULL#

It functions as the primary outpost of the kobolds.Ī massive volcano located to the north of Outer La Noscea, O'Ghomoro is home to the kobolds. Few are said to meet the master of this cabin, though it does not stop travelers from taking advantage of the local springs or the bedding.Īn underground city built into the volcano of O'Ghomoro. Many of these ruins hover in place - believed to be due to over-aspected wind crystals - and thus making them a distinctive landmark of La Noscea.Ī lone, mysterious empty cabin up on the slopes of Outer La Noscea near natural springs. These were were thought to be the hub of Nymian civilization during the Fifth Astral Era. Places of Interest The Floating City of Nym Outer La Noscea's climate may exhibit any of the following weather conditions:

U'Ghamaro Mines – The stronghold of the Kobolds.

Iron Lake – A shallow lake lined with many kobold facilities.

The Long Climb – Rugged hills lined with ruins of Nym.

Outer La Noscea contains the following areas: Run by ex-pirates known as the Red Swallows, this camp monitors the activities of kobolds and their stronghold of U'Ghamaro Mines, and as such is the only place of respite adventurers may find up here. This zone connects to Upper La Noscea in the west and east.Ī Maelstrom military camp located high up on Outer La Noscea, overlooking the Wanderer's Palance and Upper La Noscea environs. But until then, you have won us a respite from danger - a rest, a reprieve, a respite.ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: Well do I understand Gi Gu's fears - yes, yes, I do.Outer La Noscea is located on the foothills of O'Ghomoro. No, no, no longer!ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: Did you triumph over the baleful bedesman - succeed, prevail, triumph?ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: Felled, felled is our foe, and carnage-crazed coblyns trouble our dig no more! Huzzah - hurrah, hooray, huzzah!ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: He who must not be named will rise again. We would live in fear of his ghastly creations no longer. It is but a matter of time - minutes, even moments - until our dig is overrun! You will help us, yes, yes?ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: I beg of you, friend - you must put an end to the experiments of this hateful holy one. Yes, yes, our ore and our flesh!ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: He is favored by Zo Ga, yes, yes, he is, for his creations feed on the weak and the suffering. Known for creating terrible, terrible things, he is - things that prowl the tunnels thirsting for our ore. No, no, the name must not be so much as whispered - not spoken, not uttered, not whispered.ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: I say only this - yes, yes, this alone: he is a bedesman of the 59th Order. Eager to do his part to lead his order to a new era of respectability, the dustman will no doubt have need of your services again.ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: Friend, you must stop him! Yes, yes, you must bring an end to his most heinous experiments - hideous, hateful, heinous.ħ89th Order Dustman Bo Bu: Whose experiments? Bo Bu will not say.

Bo Bu rejoices upon seeing the Titan steelshield - recompense for the bedesman's foul work - knowing that he and his digmates will not be devoured by the ravenous creatures.

#LEAD COBLYN FF14 LOCATION FULL#

Oblige this request by participating in the FATE Full Metal Alchemist in U'Ghamaro and bringing back proof of your triumph. Rightfully fearing for the safety of his dig, Bo Bu would see the holy man and his frightful creations sent home. Allying himself with the hated Zo Ga, a depraved bedesman has given life to a horde of alchemically augmented coblyns with a proclivity for feeding upon work-shy kobolds.Deliver the Titan Steelshield obtained in the FATE Full Metal Alchemist to Bo Bu.

#Lead coblyn ff14 location

0 notes

photosfromeorzea · 2 years

Text

The Floating City of Nym

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshot #gpose #final fantasy xiv #open world #outer la noscea

1 note · View note

driftward · 1 year

Text

Field Report for 0603-12, Discovery of Nymian Artifact Audiences: Age of Majority Report: We’ve found it! Our efforts to track down rare Nymian artifacts have born fruit. I’ve personally recovered a number of treatises indicating the location of books and soul stones detailing the nature of an ancient Nymian military discipline, and the Assessor on loan from Mealvaan's Gate has unlocked the soul stone and related secrets of ancient Nymian field commanders. I’ll be requesting further leave to investigate the Floating City of Nym further. The Assessor indicates she is also an independent adventurer, and has already agreed to assist me further. Personal Notes: I should send the Acting Guildmaster my compliments. We’ve found a rare treasure indeed, and Senior Assessor Vauban has already so much to say on the nature of our discovery. -Z.Alka.

~*~

The ink used to make arcanist patterns can be used itself to create a different sort of thing, more fundamental than mere geometry. Equations, equations which can describe patterns that can create more patterns and so on, a pattern for making pattern; the trick is keeping it fed with aether in a self sustaining way

And another trick is making it make not just itself over and over again but to modify its own self as it goes along

And the last most important trick is to make it to interact intelligently with its environment, learning in a way

A spell that is constantly remaking itself

That is a fairy

-Foreseer Vauban

~*~

Zoissette looked down at the soulstone in her hand while Alka Zolka read over the books they had found nearby. She sat down and considered it, as he had asked her to attune to it. She would have preferred to wait until they were back in Limsa Lominsa, but it was important that they know whether it was a genuine article or not before they made their next moves. After all, if it was genuine, then this was a Scholar’s soulstone, from the ancient civilization of Nym. A rare thing.

Not that soulstones on the whole were very rare. She was familiar with them, of course. They were the tools by which lessons and memories of various techniques, magical and martial, were passed down through the generations. They were not a true shortcut to learning various arts oneself, but rather a teaching aid. Each one varied according to those who had held it through history, and the cultures that had made it, but the underlying principles were broadly the same. By attuning to a soulstone, one got, essentially, the benefit of a mentorship with all who had used it before. It was a symbiotic relationship, where the user of the soulstone could potentially refine and learn various skills faster, and the soulstone was imbued with the experience they brought to it, thus broadening possibilities and enhancing the experience of those who would use it in the future.

Her experiences with soulstones had varied widely. The first one she had ever gotten had been a knight’s soulstone, inherited from her brother upon taking the post of knight-captain in his stead. It was an unremarkable thing. Some soulstones in Ishgard were practically holy objects, known to have been handled by various saints or legends of Ishgard’s past, coveted by the rich and powerful, heady with meaning and potential, considered to be auspicious tokens to be bestowed only upon the worthy. No such gift would be spared for a low House, however, and certainly not one as down on its luck as House Vauban. No, what she had inherited had been what was known as a Regiment Stone.

She had been told to keep her expectations with regards to the Regiment Stone low. It was a basic thing, made in an earlier era of Ishgard’s history. The Regiment Stones were an attempt to codify the learnings of the military, and each were made and imbued to exacting training, covering merely the barest minimums of what a soldier would need to fight the good fight against the unrelenting horde. Unlike other stones, where one might luck into a special technique practiced by a master, the Regiment Stones were generally just the bare bones basics. And since they were meant for the common fighting man, it was rare to find one that went beyond that.

Zoissette had found hers a delight. While others complained about the work required to get benefit out of the stone, she had found that in covering the essentials, what the stone had given her was not a path to greatness, but a blueprint. The bare basics were building blocks, able to be learned quickly, but also able to be built upon and built within one another. She took to the lessons from the soulstone, and made them her own.

Not all soul stones had been like that. Klynt had once picked up on her intent to investigate the whereabouts and knowledge about Curious Gorge. Apparently knowing the man, she had directed Zoissette to him, and had encouraged her to ask him about the art of the mountain warriors, a Roegadyn martial tradition. She had met him, and he had passed her one of his soul stones. Rather more precious than the Regiment Stone, but he was apparently desperate for any help he could find.

It had set a storm into her soul, and she had nearly been overwhelmed by the emotion contained within. These warriors were not the disciplined and orderly faceless massless of a military society, but rather fighters, driven by powerful emotion, a whirlwind upon those who would oppose them, a mountain that the weak could hide behind. She had been overwhelmed, found herself fighting the storm, trying to force the fire to heel, but it would not. It wished to be set free, and she could not abide that. She controlled her emotions, and she would not risk being steered wrong by them. She flung the stone from her hand as though burned, and spent several long minutes in the surf of the beach, breathing hard, trying to push the depth of the feelings away, bleed away frustrations unto fury that had almost come to surface.

Two extremes, those two. She had encountered others. The middling but disappointing experience with the dragoon stone. The gentle affirming experience with the bard stone.

She wondered what this one would hold.

She clasped her hand around it, took a deep breath in, the bowed her head and closed her eyes, and opened herself up to the soul stone, sharing her aether with it that it might share its own in return, and thus attune. She felt the give of the aether flow, and she followed it, allowing her mind to expand, and feeling its influence.

Equations.

It was as though she was taking an exam of sorts, as she felt unsolved problems in her thoughts. She explored them, thinking through math forms that she had not thought up but which she could solve. Simple ones progressed to advanced once.

This was a unique and unusual experience. Her prior experiences with soul stones had not been so… exacting. More often they were vague recollections that were not wholly hers, gentle suggestions of movements, slight adjustments to stance and form, and expansions of feelings about situations. This was different. It was more concrete. The equations were not vague at all, but were precise, formal, clean. There was no vagueness, no ghost feeling or emotional surge or anything like that.

Problems continued to flow through her mind. Eventually she could not solve all of them, but in this, other equations came to her, often taking her back to simpler steps and showing her ways to more complex ones.

In a way, it was like the Regiment Stone, except instead of basics of fighting form and holy prayer, it was series and sequences and forms and functions.

And it was a delight, she found. It was like solving puzzles, so many puzzles, and they were going at her pace, meeting her where she was to lead her where to go. It was exhilarating. And she could feel the soul stone imparting a sense of cool calmness upon her, a steadying force, smoothing out uncertainties and building confidence, statistical certainty, solutions.

She became aware of something else in the soul stone, beyond the forms of mathematics previously unknown to her. A presence. She was reminded of her experience with the dragoon stone, but while that presence had seemed distant and asleep, this one seemed near and awake and watching back, aware of this interloper in what was in its home.

Evaluating.

And she was getting closer to it.

The puzzle became apparent. She was unlocking the path to that presence, exploring it as much as it was exploring her. For every equation, a solution, for every solution, another step forward, until the last barrier fell away, and she was there, and so was it, and they were greeting one another.

From the little form, she felt a pulse of joy, and of satisfaction. She had done well, and she would be a fine partner. They could work together, and the presence was eager to see what they could accomplish, if she would accept.

She did.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat back, as the stone lit up, and the thin threads of wire made of aether formed in the air, connecting to one another, forming a shape, until with the chime of bells a brilliant flash of aether, a small flying creature appeared in front of Zoissette. It appeared to be nothing so much as a tiny person, perhaps a Hyur by proportion, but no more than six ilms tall, and with delicate butterfly wings on its back. The little thing smiled at Zoissette, and she held her hand up to it in wonder, watching as it floated down to land on her finger and sit, watching her right back.

Hardly any time at all could have passed. She glanced over at Alka Zolka, and saw that he had not even turned the page of the book he had been looking through before he had seen what was going on and was watching her now.

“Incredible!” he said, excited.

Zoissette turned her attention back to her new companion, and could not help but agree.

#The Incident #(λa.t)

17 notes · View notes