"Just My Luck!"

"Just my luck!"

Kaleh'a was in a remarkably good mood. It was not every day he was specifically requested to participate in a hunt, and even rarer it was a solo hunt. It put a certain pop in his step as he tracked his target, a blue-black alpha Ziz, the large reptile like birds known for their aggressive tendencies, and this one had caught the attention of the Twin Adders after terrorizing a group of rookies on a training mission. One hasty retreat later, a request for help, and now Kaleh'a was off to find a angry Ziz! The thought of the hunt had his tail practically wagging with excitement! It didn't matter that the bird would likely stand a foot taller than him, at least, nor did it matter that he was still in year old armor. All he needed was one placed shot, and his hunt would be over! The hardest part was finding it.

True to his Miqo'te heritage, he had learned to track and stalk at a young age, the knowledge rolling over well to his preferred profession as a hunter, his trusty Gridanian Short bow carried with him almost everywhere. While he would happily complain about his older leather armor that liked to creak around the arms, the truth was most of it was new. Or, newer. The simple hardened leather jerkin he wore covered his chest and back, string tied the sides to keep the two separate and well fitting pieces together, two half sleeves looping over his shoulders to keep it from sliding down around his waist. Underneath was where the true comfort lay, a silken dark green shirt, purposefully chosen to blend in with the foliage of the Black Shroud, and it didn't hurt that it brought out his sparkling blue eyes. His pants he had traded recently for a pair of reinforced linen pants, the knees and buttocks sporting leather sewn over them for kneeling or sitting shots, depending on where he had decided to stake out his prey. Adorning his feet, wrapped in soft linen in lieu of socks, a pair of stuff leather boots trudged along, the beast that had made them one he had felled. The cobbler was more than happy to provide the sound dampened soles for the hunter, but even the custom made boots didn't compare to his pride and joy, slapping softly against his back.

His quiver. The hard, wooden, poplar casing was well oiled and darkened from age and care, a dozen and a half fir wood arrows sticking out of it, their feather flights standing strong against the wind that blew through them. Peaking out and over the open top, soft grey fur waved in the breeze, used to dampen the sound and avoid the scrape of an arrow head giving away his position, or arrows slapping against the wooden siding if he was moving quickly. It was the only piece of original gear he still had from home, a memory and a faithful ally. Even if what it carried changed, he didn't have any plans to get rid of it soon, at least as long as he could help it. Some may have considered him odd for that attachment, since most archers coveted their bow, but to Kaleh'a, the memories of home made it priceless.

The archer paused for a moment, humming to himself as he reached into his pant's pocket, pulling out a neatly folded map of the Black Shroud, checking it against a large tree he was standing next to, marking his location, and turning slightly east. The Twin Adders had helpfully marked where they had last seen the large alpha, and Kaleh'a figured checking there was the best place to start. One terrified account of the incident had even marked a nearby hollowed out log that might be useful to stalk his prey from. Heading off again, his steps more sure now that he knew his direction confidently, he walked in silence towards his goal. It was still a solid thirty minutes to the marked location, but he didn't mind it. It wasn't uneventful at the very least, the archer ducking behind trees, swinging up into them at times to avoid the more hostile denizens of the forest, a living mushroom going so far as to shoot a cloud of spores at him as the Miqo'te leapt over it, the young man chuckling as he landed clear of the cloud and continued on his way. He was plenty fast to avoid anything chasing him, and before he knew it, he was close to his goal.

In stride, her unslung his bow from his back, his humming dropping away as he silently observed his surroundings, taking more care to watch where he put a foot, making as little noise as possible as he moved as quickly as sound allowed towards his goal. Ziz tended to travel in packs, and with an alpha around, that meant one was likely close behind it at all times. The archer reached up, pushing back his archer's cap slightly, the pointed green cap holding back his white tipped hair just out of his eyes as the crystalline orbs of blue sought around for any hint of movement, his ears wiggling and swiveling as he listened carefully, cautious to the max as he entered the territory of the raptor birds.

Which all went out the window as he heard the challenging screech of a Ziz alpha.

Auto pilot kicked in, reaching back and drawing two arrows, one held by his left hand against the curve of his bow, away from the guide and sight line for his shot, but ready for a quick flip into knocked position after he fired the first arrow, now knocked and string tensioned, ready to fire as he moved low and fast. He noticed the log hollowed out just as the Twin Adder recruit had described, and Kaleh'a wasn't sure if he should count himself lucky or unlucky he had found his target so close to its original sighting. He guessed it would depend on what he found the angry bird challenging. A slight ruffle of feathers as he approached the log had his head snapping to the left, his eyes widening as he saw the Ziz alpha--

And a blue haired Miqo'te standing in front of it, already in a defensive stance.

He didn't think, only acted, leaping up onto the log behind her as he drew his bow to full draw, the well oiled wood creaking slightly under the strain as he sighted the bird brain right there, at it's brain, the bobbing and weaving head pausing for a moment, looking up at archer in surprise, mouth opening to screech in challenge.

It got a meal, but not one of flesh and blood. Instead, it found a wooden arrow shaft impaling its open beaked mouth, passing straight through as the heavy iron tip severed its spinal column, and its two legs went limp as wet noodles, dropping the beast forward and slamming it's lifeless head into the ground with a heavy thud. Which, accidentally, resulted in a spray of ichor and dirt coating the blue Miqo'te's feet, a last little gift from the bird raptor to its would be prey as Kaleh'a knocked his second arrow.

It's brood, shocked by the sudden death of their alpha, screeched in panic, turning, running, slamming into each other as they ran from the sudden threat, their protector gone as Kaleh'a slowly lowered his bow, un-knocking his arrow as he let out a slow breath, turning his gaze to the smaller, female Miqo'te.

"You alright?" he asked, hopping down from the log and approaching her, eying the Ziz to make sure it was dead, before turning fully to her, taking in the, he now realized, interesting female. Her hair was a vibrant blue, with no sign of dye in it, which was even odder than his moon-kissed tips. Her tunic, simple trousers, and wrapped feet marked her as a forager, complete with a satchel, lantern, and simple knife on her belt, small superficial cuts dotting her arms, some still freshly bleeding as he realized she had clearly picked a number of herbs or flowers already. He glanced down at her wrapped legs, and had to do a double take, his eyes widening, and then darting away. It wasn't because of the now red stained wraps, it was the curve of them. They weren't...normal. Or, perhaps normal was the wrong word, they weren't familiar. They curved, at the heel, with what looked like the front of her foot only touching the ground, the heel lifted up like an animal's, like...what was the word? Digitrade? But they weren't as pronounced as a wolf or cat. He couldn't remember, but something about her wasn't all Miqo'te, that much he was sure of.

Realizing he had probably stared too much, he glanced up to her eyes, giving her a wan smile, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his head in embarrassment as he murmured, "Sorry about your wraps."

Starter for @musesofawolf - Kaleh'a

It was a generous gift for E-Sumi-Yan to provide her with a private place to continue her studies. Having excelled in Conjury at a quick pace, her skill had impressed the Padjal. While she was not granted the mark of the Elemental's chosen, he often sang their praises to her. It was like she had become a different person entirely. It felt strange to be offered such kindness by others. Cyra even had a hard time thanking him for his incredible kindness in providing her with his old cabin. The hut was simply vacant and had been for years, and he felt it was time to pass it on to someone who would put it to good use. With a whole new life ahead of her, she absolutely would.

Using the survival knowledge gained from her mentor, and some additional lessons learned from the Botanist's Guild in Gridania, she had set out into the Black Shroud on a mission: to fill her newly acquired home with drying herbs for use in both her studies, and her work as a healer. With the bounty of the forest at her doorstep, it would be rather easy to gather what she needed. She had the freedom that privacy granted, and could allow herself the opportunity to let the mask fall.

Cyra had neatly folded her robes reserved for her station and left them carefully stacked on the stand near her bed. Her trip today called for practicality, and wearing her healer's garb would only make it harder for her to maneuver into the smaller spaces for specific herbs. Donning a pair of weathered wraps to protect her feet, fitted leather trousers, and a layered tunic cinched with her belt made her ready for her foray into the wilderness. On her thick belt, she kept a sheathed dagger, a lantern, and a few pouches handy for any quick nicks or injury she might sustain from brambles or wild animals. Finally adding her satchel to her ensemble, and grabbing her staff for good measure, the young healer took a deep breath and finally set out into the forest.

In the first few hours of her small adventure, she was able to harvest some seeds to start a garden, and some thick bundles to hang from the ceiling. The unfortunate side of being so new to harvesting her own herbs was the lack of knowledge in how to avoid the brambles on some of the more difficult plants. She was grateful that she had the foresight to bring her own bandages, and reminded herself to find a leatherworker in the city to craft her some protective leather sleeves for her next adventure. Thankfully the nicks were superficial, but that didn't mean they bled any less. Sleeves rolled up, bandages out in full display, she hadn't even considered what kind of creatures the smell of it would attract.

Cyra had herself half-buried in a log when she heard it approach. This particular part of the Shroud had quite an aggressive pack of raptors. What she failed to remember was that this was also the territory of the Ziz. Large, bright-colored reptile-like birds that towered over most things in the Twelveswood. The Miqo'te had never hunted animals before, and hadn't anticipated being crept up on by a small pack that caught her uncomfortably close to their nesting grounds. But the largest of them all was a blue-back. It was the alpha of the group, and they had a tendency to encroach on the settlements in the area as they continued to expand their territory. This one in particular had become quite the problem for the Wood Wailers, and a bounty had been set up for any brave enough to eliminate it.

Finally reaching her quarry inside the rotting log, she stuffed the peculiar mushroom into her satchel and began the backwards crawl out. Right as she had seated herself in the dirt, she heard the brush rumble behind her. Her ears rotated quickly, picking up each step of the massive creature. The pace of her heart quickened. Snatching up her staff, she hopped to her feet.

"Just my luck." She sighed as the beast came into view. It's massive, tooth-lined beak clacking angrily as it approached. It's head bobbed as the blue-back sized her up. As small as he was, she wouldn't provide much of a meal, but easy prey was easy prey. She sniffed, and with a quick motion stuck her staff into the dirt. The creature's feathers bristled as it let out a short shriek, an admission of challenge.

"I haven't had enough exercise lately, this could be fun." She tilted her head to each side, and assumed a defensive stance, hand on the pommel of her dagger. Her tail flicked back and forth, ready and waiting for the beast to make its first strike.

The excitement of starting up a story is infectious. I'm looking for more to read, and more to start!

<art by @voidtouched-blue>

Hello, and welcome.

I'm Wolf, 25+ years old, with 3 years of RP experience, and a decade of writing experience. He/Him.

Currently expanding upon FFXIV RP, with multiple characters, but am open to more.

Multiship per character.

Multiversal, with a background based around FFXIV and some liberties taken.

18+, if it makes sense for the story. Just be open about what you are looking for.

Long responses, with attention to details.

Moderately active. Working from home most days, but dependent on time allowed with work.

Feel free to message if you are interested, or have questions about rules or characters.

Rules | Kaleh'a | Bryn | Thancred

FFXIV Writing Challenge 2024 Directory

13th-dragon-prince -- [Prior]

[...]“Bryn knows the stifle of walls. The feel of wind.” The pulse of a chase, the energy burned through strict movement; it was simple enough to tell just by the dense muscles that tensed below the slim dragon; the barest of natural fur in place of Eorzean cloth standing out against pale scales as the La’Mellae sat up slightly, a somewhat serious expression in those slitted eyes.

“Why else would Bryn hold the leash?”

There was something wholly unexplainable about the feeling of an appendage you didn't have trail over you, gliding along his leg and sending a shiver through his body, the slow rise and fall of it that seemed to match his rumbling voice so...surprising. In some way different than he expected and yet right in the realm of possibilities.

The flinch as his hand landed on Whillow's back was noted, and he almost reacted to it, a little shift of his hand, a soft touch, and then he lifted it away, giving him that space back, not wanting to intrude. Although he certainly could, the Au Ra was certainly not hesitant to step into his, or lay in it. Bryn had no idea how sensitive his scales actually were, never getting up close with him before, and as that tail tip pressed along his thighs, his finger grazed the same scale on his chest he had touched before, eyes glimmering at the clack of those teeth by his arm, smooth skin and scale on his flesh.

Something uncurled within him, wanted him to gnash back, to click his teeth in recognition, even as that smile was offered. He was mildly concerned, not for himself, but for his clothing, as sharp claws teased metal buckles again, but it all drained away as he froze, Whillow's words sending adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Bryn have the scent of... kindred. His eyes snapped to Whill's, his breath held, watching him carefully. What, exactly, did the gecko mean by that? What could he scent? Could it be he knew what was twisting inside him in response, what heated his limbs slightly more than usual, his heart beating faster as he watched those slitted pupils for a hint.

The slow tease of his claw over the scar in his eyebrow was barely registered, those mirror like silver eyes locked in his gaze as he waited with baited breath for what he would say next. And all of it...was true. He knew the stifle of walls around him, the trap they presented in a fight or during strategic meetings. He knew the freedom of an open field, a line of trees, a mountain top, and everything in-between. There was no denying it, his breath slowly releasing, heart calming slightly, but the coiling beast within did not quiet. It warmed his limbs, his face, even as his eyes stayed cool and cautious, flicking between Whillow's eyes and his expression, just in case as he let his breathing return to normal.

Seeing Whill sit up reminded Bryn that the scaled man was, as usual, without clothing, his eyes taking him in, following the curve of his tail, up slowly from his hips, down his arms that propped him up on Bryn's chest, and finally back to his face and those horns atop his head, his hands reaching up and grabbing the gecko by his hips, lifting him with ease as his muscles rippled, sitting up and placing him on his lap as he held those silver eyes in a firm gaze, his face impassive as he mulled over that last statement. Why else would Bryn hold the leash? The seriousness in his eyes surprised the soldier, sometimes forgetting that the pet-like half-dragon was incredibly intelligent, even if he didn't always show it and instinct one out at times. Just like...he stopped that thought, his eyes growing guarded, and he narrowed them, his voice a low growl as he spoke.

"Because I'm the only one who can put up with you?" He said it half joking, half not, as he reached up and ran his hand through his hair, brushing away the last of the dirt as he glanced over at his chocobo, the beast of burden munching at the leaves of a nearby tree as Bryn took a long, slow breath, eyes clouding, and turning back to Whillow and saying softly, "Still have some energy left? I have a place I want to show you." He reached over, grabbing the rifle to his left, planting the butt of it in the dirt and ready to push up when the gecko decides to rise himself. He had wholly forgotten that it wasn't necessarily a when...but an if.

general psa that i will NEVER be upset with you for taking forever/never answering something i send you 

we all have lives outside of this and muses are fickle like, i get it and i never want anyone to be afraid that i’d hold it against them like if i send you a meme and you’re not feeling it? you don’t need to answer it

if we plot something and i make a starter and you’re not feeling it anymore? that’s okay too. even if halfway through a thread it feels like it’s going nowhere so you wanna drop it? that’s 100% okay

honestly? you don’t even need to let me know you’re dropping something/not answering something like im not here to pressure you or bug you about replies and i don’t care if you’re actively writing with other people  or anything, like if you’re not interested in writing something with me i won’t take it personally

and even if you don’t want to drop something and take literal months to answer? that’s chill like me too okay

and all i ask is that you extend the same courtesy to me <3 

Cold

It was one of the few things Brynhorn Fiske hated, but found himself in more often than not. Laying belly down in snow would do that to you, and of course, he was doing just that, sighting down the sights of his rifle as he breathed slowly, evenly, watching as far below him on the mountain, Garlean soldiers passed through a small mountain pass. He tracked the first soldier, his head appearing in his sights, a tiny little black dot, as his finger slowly shifted from the trigger guard, resting against the trigger, taking a slow breath, letting it out even slower...

"Boo!"

Bryn felt his eyes narrow, slowly turning his head to stare at the ashen haired joker as the Hyur assassin snickered next to him, the sniper slowly removing his finger from the trigger. "You are lucky I have good trigger discipline," the soldier growled out, his voice deep and rich for his age, the thirty four year old Sergeant pushing up onto his elbows and disrupting a few small pebbles of soft snow.

"We would have been fine," Thancred chuckled out, "the sound wouldn't have reached them from here."

Bryn shifted his gun, rising to his knees as he shouldered the pine wood rifle and sighed, the younger man still very much a silver tongued tease. "You're right, but they would have noticed their Lieutenant dropping dead at the head of the line."

Thancred actually looked mildly concerned at that statement, looking down towards the mountain pass, and then back at the all white clad soldier, before nervously saying, "You couldn't hit that...right?" Bryn just gave him a stare, his silver eyes gleaming as he repositioned the hat on his head, the snow dusted linen hiding his short cropped black hair as he turned and began to trudge through the snow towards the next lookout, Thancred following along behind him and calling out, "Right!?"

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Bryn was back in the snow, belly down, the angle of the slope steep enough to give him a natural angle down towards the pass, nearly fully covered by snow now that they were closer, his rifle sticking out from it and angled down towards the next section of the pass. Nearby, Thancred tossed a knife up into the air, catching it blade first, and repeating, the Sergeant mildly annoyed at him. He would have told him to stop, if the sun was out, but the day was blissfully cloudy. Correction, it was bitterly cloudy. It made the snow an extra few degrees cooler, and that just added to the soldier's mounting annoyance. He wasn't used to all of this sneaking around, waiting, and watching, more a man of action with his militant background, but after joining the cloak and dagger operation out of Limsa Lominsa, he had adapted, quickly. It wasn't his preferred method of engagement, but he could be deadly at the long ranges the organization wanted him to observe from.

He let out a slow breath, watching the pass, the slow progression of the Garlean soldiers, not even bothering with the sights this time as his finger rested on the trigger guard. The snow had fallen thick the evening before, and it was showing, the foot soldiers slogging through the soft powder as their black armor stuck out like beetles on paper, the sniper thanking the guild for providing him with a white coat, white shirt, and white pants, even a pair of leather boots with white fur sewn over the brown material. It kept him camouflaged, even better than Thancred's white and black coat.

"What's your camouflage again?" The question was mumbled, the Sergeant's cheek pressed to the butt of his rifle as he glanced at the younger, but senior in the guild, rogue. It actually got the spy to stop tossing his knife, look at Bryn, and then raise his arms as if it was self explanatory.

"A rock!"

"Rock's don't move."

"You are zero fun."

"I thought this wasn't supposed to be fun."

Thancred narrowed his gaze, and then let out a grumbling curse. "I preferred my last detail. No one to babysit, and plenty of beautiful women to court~" Bryn actually groaned, and Thancred laughed at the sound, returning to tossing his knife as the soldier shifted slightly, looking back down his rifle at--

"Hey. Where's the patrol?"

Thancred stopped tossing the knife, looking down towards the mountain pass, as Bryn rose to one knee, sighting down his rifle and slowly scanning, the rogue crouching down as he too looked for any trace. "How the...there is nowhere else to go but...wait..."

He tapped Bryn's shoulder, pointing, and the older soldier shifted his sight line to where he was directed, closing one eye as he took in what his eagle eyed leader had.

"A door? Metal... Huh, magitek I think. See a keypad."

"You can see that?"

Bryn just nodded, continuing on with his explanation as he looked slightly to the left. "Single guard, blends in well with the rocks and door. Still stupid to wear black in snow."

"When do they not wear all black?" Thancred drawled out, sitting back in the snow. "Well, we have the location of the secret Castrum! I think we've seen enough."

Bryn had to agree, rising to his feet and stamping them slightly, getting the blood flowing as he shifted his gun onto his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands and blowing on them before answering. "Plenty. Let's head back and--"

The crack of the rifle rang out, and Bryn staggered back, slamming back into the snow as pain blossomed in his side, laying on his back, nearly starting to slide down the steep mountain peak, he saw for the first time the Garlean scout who had just shot him, the still smoking blade-gun pointed right at him, and the pristine white armor enough to make the soldier eat his earlier words. Already, the scout was aiming at Thancred, the rogue leaping forward, ready to close the distance as Bryn reacted on instinct.

The crack-BOOM of his rifle, brought to bear against his shoulder, sent a ball of aether spinning towards the scout, stabilized with spin and cutting through the cool air. The poor sap didn't stand a chance, Bryn's older, less advanced rifle far more accurate thanks to familiarity and old, lost technology, the concentrated ball of death slamming through the visor of the scout and snuffing out his life in an instant.

Bryn lowered his rifle slowly, already panting as pain began to truly radiate from his wound, blood seeping into the snow under him and staining his coat a rich, vibrant red. The crumpled Garlean began to slide down the mountain, his armor dragging him along, as below an alarm sounded and soldiers began to pour from the door. The rogue was at Bryn's side in a moment, handing him a fistful of bandages that the sniper pressed to his wound, hissing in pain before making a move to get to his feet.

"You can't--"

"I can and I will." Bryn cut him off, not needing to hear that the wound was bad, or that it would slow them down. Instead, he just pressed his rifle into Thancred's hands and then pulled himself up, swaying slightly as blood slowly dripped from between his fingers and around already stained bandages. "Go. Get them the location. I'll follow."

"You're kidding!" Thancred was incredulous, his brown eyes shining with disbelief, and his mouth working open and closed, a few sounds like words leaving his lips, but he didn't get the chance to say them.

"No. Go. You're the leader, you know the mission takes precedence."

"And you're my charge!" Stubborn. Someone had mentioned that about Thancred, Bryn didn't care to remember who. He just gave the well built man a shove and growled out angrily.

"And I'm saying go! I've survived worse, now let me do what I'm trained to do, and go!" Thancred hesitated, then tried to hand back the rifle he still clutched, Bryn waving him off with a quick, "I'll be better without it," only then turning and starting to make a rapid, half sliding half running descent down the mountain, angling away from the Garlean forces trying to pick their way up it. Bryn watched him go, making sure he didn't turn back, before he too turned and headed along the mountain ridge, but going up and away from the approaching forces.

He knew he had a long few days ahead of him as every step barked with pain in his side.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Three days later, when Bryn walked over the threshold of the guild in Old Sharlayan, the whispers began. Thancred had returned only the day before, begging that a search party be mounted, but finding no one willing to search for a body. Not a single one of the unsavory bunch expected him to crawl through the door, but to walk through it? Tattered white clothes stained red with blood? He shocked them all.

For a long week, some swore they had seen claw marks in his clothes. Others said they saw a healed bullet wound on his left side. Others whispered his eyes glowed unnaturally. But no matter what was said, his name was whispered nearly reverently, and an old moniker made a resurgence from his military days.

"Silver Wolf."

He never told anyone what happened up on that mountain. Not even Thancred. All he would say was that he hid, and waited until the danger passed.

And that he hated the cold.