FFxivWrite 2024

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 12 - Quarry

Quietly he crept through the undergrowth with his bow at the ready, listening for the slightest sign of his quarry. All he had caught yet was one lousy Squirrel and that barely was enough for his own dinner, but certainly not enough to feed a whole tribe.

He wasn’t a bad hunter and of course he also wasn’t the only one of his tribe out and about looking for food. But since Menphina’s loyal hound, the lesser moon glowing red in the sky, had started to behave strangely, the animals of the Black Shroud had become more careful and harder to track down. Almost like they were hiding.

Nhagi’ra agreed with them. Whatever was happening worried him. Something was obviously wrong and the eldest of his tribe had decided to interpret it as a bad omen and spoke of their goddess being angry with them, sending out her loyal companion to punish them. Punish them for what, Nhagi’ra didn’t fully understand but if the wise women said so it had to be true.

But there was no time to worry about this now. The hunger of his family was a more pressing matter and it needed more than a squirrel and a handful of berries to sate it. For a while he had considered going to the city, where the Elezen and Hyur lived, and look for work there, hoping to be able to buy food instead of hunt. On paper it sounded like a good plan but sadly there was nothing other than hunting he was good at which sort of made the whole idea obsolete.

The good news was that Nhagi’ra had spotted a deer about half a bell ago and since then he had tracked it waiting for a good opportunity to strike. He had to make sure his arrow would find its target, this was too good an opportunity to miss.

The bad news was that the animal seemed to have sensed something or someone was stalking it. Always not quite in Nhagi’ra’s field of fire the dear had walked deeper and deeper into the forest and of course the Miqo’te had followed. Now he was no longer sure where he was at all and the deer had disappeared out of his sight entirely.

Carefully he moved through the bushes, trying to remain silent and hidden, but at the same time hoping to catch sight of his prey again. Then he heard a sound further ahead and followed it and finally there the deer was again - standing on a clearing with nothing but a single tree on it. Nothing between his arrow and the game that could feed his family for at least a few days.

He was so focused on the deer that he hadn’t noticed that by now he himself had turned into someone else’s quarry.

Slowly Nhagi’ra stood up and drew his bow, when suddenly a voice appeared behind him.

“Lower your weapon! Now!”, a man commanded.

Alarmed the deer raised its head and leaped away. Nhagi’ra whirled around angrily only to find a spear pointed at his throat. At the other side of the weapon stood an Elezen, staring at him angrily.

“What is it that you think you are doing in this holy place?”, another voice asked and to his left a Hyur woman stepped out of the bushes with a drawn bow in her hands.

Nhagi’ra recognised the armor of the Adders but not yet the situation he was in. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you not just trying to shoot this deer next to the hedgetree?”, the woman asked.

“I was but -“, the Miqo’te started but was interrupted by the Elezen.

“And where are your poacher-friends hiding, mongrel?”, the man scoffed.

“What?”, Nhagi’ra exclaimed as he realised that he was in trouble. “I am no poacher!”

“Didn’t you just admit so yourself?”, the woman asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

“No! I did nothing wrong! I only tried to —“

“Tell that to someone who believes it!”, the man barked and used his spear to knock him off his feet.

Roughly Nhagi’ra landed face first in the mud and before he even realised what happened to him the Adders had shackled his hands behind his back and dragged him off to throw him into a prison cell.

Day 26 - Zip

If there was one thing that Kaleh'a Quickdraw was good at, it was knowing his limits.

And when he reached those limits, the second best thing he was good came in to save his tail.

That second thing being running.

The Miqo'te was naturally light on his feet, but after years of tracking prey, chasing after wounded animals, and occasionally running from said wounded animals, his skill at fleeing from danger was exceptional. So exceptional, in fact, that he had never been caught.

And today would not be the first time he was caught.

He zipped past a tree and a slumbering watchman, the illegal hunters camp he had infiltrated rather loosely guarded for so early in the morning, a pair of ill-gotten rabbits over his shoulder as he laughed, waking the sentry just in time for his buddies to come rushing past, most with bows drawn as they yelled with ire.

The truth was, the seven hunters would have put Kaleh'a's skills to the test if he took them all on by himself, but stealing a little piece of their hoard and luring them out was a different story entirely. In fact, it was exactly what he was hoping to do. He jerked to the left, behind a tree, and an arrow whistled past and through the spot he had been running in, but before another could be nocked and fired, he was dashing about in a completely different direction, still laughing as the rabbits bounced on his shoulder.

Another truth, he was a bit terrified. Sure, fighting was one thing, but when you turned and ran? That was a whole different can of worms. Staring down the enemy meant you knew where they were, what they were doing, how they were reacting. This, with his back to them, he had to rely on his ears, his instincts, and his legs.

More arrows zipped past him, singing in the air, and then moments later, a few more, but the wily Miqo'te ducked, dodged, and weaved out of their way, seeing the clearing just up ahead that meant freedom.

And a whole lot of hurt for the poachers.

He burst through the undergrowth, letting out a whooping cry, and as if on cue, from patches of tall grass, Twin Adder and God's Bow soldiers rose up, knocked arrows, readied spears, and prepared themselves, just in time for the first swordsman hot on Kaleh'a's heels to burst from the forest proper, and skid to a halt as he saw what awaited him.

The quick turn towards the forest was stymied by the flow of poachers behind him, unable to call out a warning as he was bowled over by the swarm of bodies intent on skinning the Miqo'te, and instead, all froze as the guards held them up at spear and bow point. Slowly, they raised their hands, dropped their weapons, and surrendered one by one, leaving the captain of the guard grinning as he strode over to Kaleh'a.

He patted the Miqo'te on the back, who was hunched over and panting, chuckling as he did so. "Well done. Crazy idea, but, well done."

Kaleh'a lifted a shaky hand, gave him a thumbs up, and then barfed, the captain taking a step back as the young man groaned. "Should not...have eaten breakfast." And the captain laughed.

Day 28 - Deleterious

Sitting in Ishgard, surrounded by the wreckage caused by dragons, Bryn felt like he had not done enough.

No, not just in this moment, that would be an incorrect characterization of his feelings. It was more like...he had never done enough. And if he had never done enough, why did he deserve this life he lived, or to consider himself a part of the Scions?

And as he sat there on the rubble, it seemed more and more right what he had done, to strike out on his own, and to leave behind his friends, his past, and that feeling of...well, uselessness.

But no matter how hard he tried to do that, to just walk away, someone, or something, always pulled him back. This time, in the form of an annoying goggled Elezen, hooded and contemplating as he stared down at the sitting Hyur.

"Are though injured?" Urianger asked, somehow without a hint of detectable concern in his voice, which made Bryn glance up with a scowl.

"No," he growled back, "and I do not seek 'thy council.'" His retort stung, he knew it would, but Urianger did not waver, or turn away, instead humming almost thoughtfully, a finger tapping his tilted cheek.

"You may not seek it, but you need it."

Bryn rose abruptly, glaring at the goggled man, and shaking his head. "The last thing I need is you analyzing my life and telling me what and how I went wrong."

"Then do not hear me out for yourself, but for them."

Them. He knew who he meant, and Bryn froze in his place, halfway to walking away, before he slowly turned back, and glared again at Urianger. "Fine... I will listen."

For a moment, the tall Elezen was silent, and then he tilted his head. "Why, Bryn, do you act the way you do? I think you know why, but cannot stop thyself. Simply because you do not realize how deleterious your actions are to thyself, and thine own."

Bryn stared at him for a long moment, until he raised an eyebrow slowly and rumbled out, "I'm sorry, what?"

Urianger seemed befuddled for a moment, then let out a soft "Ah," and rephrased. "What I mean, is that your actions, while good intentioned, harm both yourself, and those you care for." Bryn visibly bristled, and Urianger lifted his hands placatingly. "You said you would listen. So please..." Bryn calmed, slightly, and Urianger let his hands fall. "I do not blame you for what occurred, with the Crystal Braves and the following madness. In fact, I am pleased you were away, that you remained unentangled by that mess. But Bryn...where were you when the call for help went out?"

The way the Hyur gritted his teeth was evident, and his gaze flicked to those goggles, and he pointed a finger at Urianger. "Do not question what I was doing, when you know full well I left and did not wish to be contacted! And you know the moment I heard I came back!"

"And left as soon as you arri-"

"I WAS NOT NEEDED!" He roared back, and a shiver shot down his spine, before the Hyur sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I...was not needed. Everyone was safe. And everyone had someone to take care of them."

Urianger was silent, for a long moment, and then sighed. "You are...incredibly dense sometimes."

Bryn looked like he was about to punch the poor man.

"What made you think you weren't wanted? Just because they are cared for, does not mean they don't still desire your presence. I would argue that your presence was more highly sought then others. Yet you chose to leave. How do you think that made them both feel?"

Bryn's fist clenched, the stupid finger tapping Elezen just observing him calmly, until the Hyur sucked in a slow breath, and let it out slowly, closing his eyes in almost...shame. "You're right." That was all he could say, when faced with his choices, and he opened his eyes slowly. "I couldn't be there. Not after I wasn't there...originally. After I learned what had happened to them."

He took a deep breath, and sighed it out again, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Urianger with a harsh glare. "You know, you could always be kinder when calling someone out."

Urianger chuckled, and shook his head. "Tis not my way. And you appreciate the fact that it isn't." Bryn just grunted in disagreement. Or perhaps it was agreement.

Day 20 - Duel

Standing in the Coliseum of Ul'dah, looking up at the seats surrounding the bowl, Bryn felt that feeling of...smallness. At 32, he was a warrior in his own right, named and remembered, but standing in the gladiator pit, he felt small. Warriors of old and new had stood in these pits and rose to fame, and he knew of at least one that hailed from his homeland.

The Bull of Ala Mhigo. The whole reason he was even here. His old guild master, Axemaster Wyrnzoen, had called in a favor, asking to use the blood sands, to checkup on Bryn's old skills. An odd thing to request, but when the Axemaster asked, any Marauder worth their salt answered.

Bryn shifted his greataxe, borrowed from a friend, the head in the sand, handle grasped with one hand, still looking around as he heard Wyrnzoen enter the pit, the soft crunch of his boots almost echoey in the empty amphitheater, halting a fair distance from Bryn with his axe over a shoulder, the white haired Roegadyn seemingly unfazed by the sharp silver eyes that turned to him.

"Glad you showed," Wyrnzoen chuckled out, eyeing his old pupil with a critical eye. "They weren't sure you would."

They? He turned, lifting his head, and he felt that cold feeling of disappointment sink into his belly. The Scions. Just some, but enough. Y'shtola, Thancred, and Minfilia. One looked concerned, the other interested, and the third -

He couldn't meet her gaze. Not after...

"You had no right," he growled out, his entire body seething with rage as he turned back towards his old teacher, his axe hefted with one hand and spun into a two handed stance.

"They asked," was all the Axemaster said. "Someone needs to knock sense back into that head of yours, boy. Or have you forgotten so soon where you came from?"

"I never forgot!" Bryn snarled, bursting forward, his axe swung low, kissing the ground with the blade stretched behind him, swinging it up with a vicious one handed blow aimed at the Axemaster's chest. It was trivial for Wyrnzoen to block, the handle of his axe wringing with the blow as Bryn's dual blades great axe struck it, but his eyes widened in shock at the power, the strength behind it. Skidding back, he nearly was lifted into the air by the blow, several fulm now between the two men, and he remembered that hunger, that fire in the young boy's eyes.

It was there again, but this time, it was nurtured, honed, and powerful. "You might prove a challenge," the Axemaster murmured, squaring his feet in the sand, and readying his axe as Bryn circled, those keen silver eyes judging and planning his next move. "What happened on that battlefield?" Wyrnzoen called, and the snarl he got was hardly human.

"You wouldn't understand," Bryn shot back, teeth gritted, and darting forward, his axe brought back at chest level, and swung hard, like chopping a tree, again blocked, but this time the Axemaster didn't move from his planted position. Something that pleased the old man but also proved rather dangerous. Bryn had learned how to use his rifle like a spear, to take and combine different fighting styles into one, and as his axe blade vibrated with the rebounding force of the block, he jerked the blade forward in an awkward thrust, the unwieldy greataxe slicing by Wyrnzoen's arm as he twisted out of the way.

The follow up swing brought up and around Bryn's head drove the Axemaster back, a few quick hops to put distance between them, and he grinned. Grinned. Something that only made Bryn's anger simmer more. "Try me!" The Roegadyn taunted the Hyur, tossing his axe onto his shoulder, leaving himself wide open as Bryn growled with frustration at the slite, but kept his head and slowly returned to circling the senior axeman. "I've seen my fair share of battles, I know what they do to a man."

"Even when you don't return a man?" The hop-skip leap saw the two handed overhead swing crash down into the sand, right where Wyrnzoen had been, a blow that even blocked would have hurt, far outside of what was proper for a friendly duel. No, Bryn wasn't holding back. Or, it seemed like to the outside eye he wasn't. To the Axemaster, as he back stepped out of range of another reckless swing, he could tell his pupil had more.

"War doesn't make men," Wyrnzoen agreed, deflecting a blow as Bryn pressed the attack with a flurry of quick, precise strikes. "It takes them. Kills them. But it doesn't break men like you."

"You know nothing about me!"

The Axemaster laughed, spinning out of the way of a blow and catching the handle of Bryn's axe, physically halting it as he yanked Bryn close enough to stare into his eyes. "I trained you, boy. I know everything about you. And that spirit would not break so pitifully that you barely allow yourself a decent meal, or rest, or clothes. Where is the Silver Wolf that lead his mean fearlessly -"

"HE'S DEAD!" The roar of pain, of hurt, of rage shook the arena, and Bryn couldn't hold it back. His bones popped, axe tossed aside, hair rippling to a stark white and spreading, his entire body morphing in seconds into that of a beast, the muzzle of the white wolf inches from Wyrnzoen's face as it snarled at him. The Hyur had gone from shorter than the Axemaster, to a foot taller, larger than a Roegadyn, and far, far more powerful. It was the only time that his old teacher attacked, swinging his axe in surprise, and Bryn just caught it, with one oversized hand, halting the blade in its path as he growled at the familiar face, and his tail lashed about behind him. "He's...dead..." Bryn rumbled out, his voice deep, guttural, but still his voice. He didn't have to look back and up to feel the three pairs of eyes on him, or to know their expressions. His wolfish ears flicked back and up as he could practically see Minfilia's worry only triple on her face, Thancred's shock as his entire perception changed about the man he had trained in stealth, and Y'shtola's understanding.

She was the only one who had known about this, about his curse. Who had helped him understand it, and gain some version of control over it. Heavy, slow breaths as he worked to calm himself, still holding that axe, staring down the Axemaster as the man seemed completely unfazed by what had just occurred in front of him, only offering Bryn a soft, understanding smile. I don't need your pity. He wanted to yell it, to yank that stupid axe from his hands and bat him across the blood sands, but something about having his old tutor give him that look snapped something inside the warrior.

Releasing the axe, he turned his monstrous frame away from his teacher, turned his back on him, striding on quite paws towards the exit, looking up at the trio above them with a growl. "I'm going to Ishgard," he rumbled out. "The call for help is out, and I plan to answer."

"You cannot be ser-" Minfilia was caught off by, to her surprise, both her compatriots, Thancred shaking his head, and Y'shtola gently placing a hand on her shoulder, looking down at Bryn as she sighed.

"Are you sure, Bryn?"

He paused, at the sound of her voice, slowly looking up to the white haired Miqo'te, his silver eyes gleaming from the face of the beast within him, and then slowly, his body faded back to his common, normal Hyur form, his face calm, steady, and he nodded. "I'm sure. And this time... I will keep in touch."

"Good," was all Y'shtola said, before she smiled softly. "I will miss our talks."

Bryn snorted, and glanced back at his axe, then back to her, shaking his head. "Hopefully they will keep you enough company while I'm gone. We both have a lot of missed time to catch up on with them." She could only nod, knowing they had both missed the Warrior of Light deeply in those five years of limbo, but she also knew the man trudging out of the pit, and she turned to the still worried Minfilia.

"He will be fine. He always is." But she couldn't stop herself from silently praying he would be.

Day 21 - Shade

"Why is it called the Black Shroud?"

The young, blonde Miqo'te looked up from under white tipped bangs, his tail flicking back and forth behind him as he sat on the log besides his mother, watching her wash their clothes and pestering her with curious questions, his sharp mind already on display as his ears flicked this way and that as he took in the sounds of the town in one direction, and the sounds of the forest in the other. His mom paused her humming, looking up with sharp blue eyes, her hair oh so similar to her son's blowing in the gentle breeze, just without those moon-kissed tips like her son had. She seemed to think, and then pointed towards the forest, one hand still massaging their clothes in the warm water.

"What do you see when you look between the trees?" The young boy sighed, rolling his eyes as he got yet another one of his mother's famous questions-as-an-answer. But, even if he was annoyed, he did still look, and he stared between the trees, and just...watched.

Sunlight filtered between dark leaves high in the sky, dilapidated patterns of light across the grass and shrubbery. His turquoise eyes danced with the light, following it, his head tilting, and he nearly jumped in surprise when he saw it. A shift, and a tiny little head lifted from its resting place in the grass, and with the head visible, he could see the rest of the doe's tiny body. Spotted, young like him, and with the dancing lights, impossible to see without that bit of movement, and even as he stared right at it, he found it hard to keep it in view, because its instinctual stillness played into the natural camouflage of its spots. But now that he could see the doe so close, he started to see other things.

A bunny, munching on a clover, watching him with interest. A snake, slithering right by the bunny, neither caring about the other. The mother deer, standing by a bit deeper into the woods, watching for anything that might hurt its offspring. And the little Miqo'te couldn't help but let out a little "whoa..." in awe, and turn back to his mother.

"I get it! It shrouds those living in it!" His mother laughed, and nodded, wringing out a shirt and looking at him.

"And how does it shroud them?"

"With shade!"

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Kaleh'a startled awake, his eyes flying open as he listened carefully from his perch high in a tree, taking in the sounds of the forest around him and slowly relaxing, unsure what had just woke him, but what he heard gave him no warnings about potential danger. He settled back in, thinking over the dream - no, memory - he had just had, and he smiled warmly as flecks of sunlight danced over his face.

It was warm memories like those that reminded him why he kept returning to the Black Shroud, to his home. This place, with it's shrouding shade and thriving wildlife, would always be special to the Keeper of the Moon, and he would forever be grateful for its lessons.

He closed his eyes, and let the dancing sun and warm day lull him back to sleep, just as much a part of the forest as the forest was a part of him.

Day 27 - Memory

No, not again, not here.

He couldn't move, the Eorzean men and women bravely charging around him, fighting with tooth and nail against the encroaching VIIth Imperial Legion. They were holding their own, each and every one of them, pushing back the larger force, but Bryn couldn't move.

He was rooted in his spot, like his boots were full of lead, like he was frozen in place by what he was seeing as they sky overhead burned red. He had fought here, he had seen friends die here. But he hadn't fought here.

No, this was the thick of the battle, this was not where he had fought with his small contingent of soldiers on the flank. But all of it, it felt far too real.

He heard it, the cracking sound of artificial earth, his head jerking up and staring up into the sky as the red moon, now so much larger, broke apart, magnificent wings bursting free from their prison, followed by claws, maw, and fiery death. He saw as the primal roared with the rage of his imprisonment, witnessed as its wings curled in and then burst open, unleashing a flare of small fire spears that rained down on both armies, and spread out throughout the land to seek other targets. He saw one strike a butte to the west, and obliterate it.

Where Bryn had originally stood on this battlefield. Where he had barely survived.

This wasn't his memory.

He saw the spell cast by Archon Louisoix fail, saw the monstrous beast in the sky ready to unleash a blast that would destroy the world as he knew it, and felt the cocoon of magic start to envelope him. He reached out, for Louisoix, yelling something, anything, to tell him to stop, to not do this -

But there was only darkness, and that sad smile on the Archon's face as he faded from view.

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Bryn started awake in a cold sweat, gripping the sheets he was under with panted breaths, the chill of that memory seeping into him as he took a slow, steadying breath, and breathed out. That wasn't me. That wasn't me. Not that it was worse than what he had gone through, but that moment, that moment was not his own. And that, that was calming.

"Hear, Feel, Think."

A voice, that voice, again, the one he thought he had heard before, had denied before, his teeth gritted as he growled out in frustration at it again. "Why me?" he asked to the air, to the presence there, and swiped a hand at where he thought it could be. All he hit was air, nothing was there, but he did feel that presence shift, fade, become nothing.

But it didn't change the fact that he felt like it had left something behind. Whether he liked it or not.