Day 20 - Duel

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 17 - Sally

[Minor Heavensward and Stormblood spoilers]

"Hold the wall! HOLD THE WALL!"

Bryn's rifle cracked, the ball of super heated aether flying through the air, and through the black armored chest of an advancing imperial, sending him crumpling to the ground as others rushed forward still, desperate to retake Baelsar's Wall, the only separation between the captured land of Ala Mihgo and the Black Shroud. Bryn still had no idea how, or why, the Grand Companies had suddenly taken the wall, or why they had chosen to hold it, but when the desperate call for reinforcements went out, he answered. And now, in the fort, they had a tenuous hold. One that would threaten to break if they kept letting the Garlean's rush the gates.

Already, Magitek armor was starting to appear from the Ala Mihgo side, three drill equipped monstrosities, and Bryn knew they would make short work of the gates if they were allowed to reach them, but the alternative seemed somehow worse. He gritted his teeth, his green coat whipping through the air as he turned and stormed towards the steps off the raised wall, hollering to the soldiers he left behind, "Keep shooting! Don't let them close!"

He nearly skid down the stairs in his haste, boots hitting dirt as he found a group of spearmen already forming up on the gate, ready to poke back anyone who made it through with nervous energy, and their commander lingering near their rear. Coward. Bryn was in the midst of them in a moment, pointing at the two closest to the front. "You! Get ready, when I open the gate, each one of you take half of this force and take one of the magitek armor. I'll deal with the third!"

"This is my command!" The shrill, untrained voice that rose in objection was silenced with a glare of silver eyes, with a flash of the silver wolf patch on his cloak, and a growl that was more animal than man. A growl that served to get the spearmen into rapid position, even calling over a few archers for backup. Good enough. It had to be, especially since Bryn turned, and kicked the block out from the gear holding the gate closed, and it started to wind open with heavy clinks of metal chains.

For the Garleans, they saw the gates to their wall opening, welcoming them back into its safety, and they cheered with feverish delight. But those cheers were met with a roar of challenge, from Bryn and his commandeered unit, bayonet fixed at the end of his rifle as it spit aether and he charged out on fleet feet. The spearmen and archers that followed struck fear into the foot soldiers protecting the machines, turning and fleeing as the magitek marched forward with its orders firmly in place, only to find their way blocked by a sea of spears and rain of arrows. They halted, turning their attention to their attackers, but the large drills meant for puncturing armored gates was not well equipped to handle rapidly moving dragoons or distant archers.

And the third didn't stand a chance against the barreling soldier as the Eorzea alliance sallied forth, meeting their attackers head on in a defensive maneuver, and for the time being, stalling the recapture of the wall.

It was only after the metal and magitek machine lay wrecked at his feet that Bryn realized where he was standing. That after nearly eighteen years, he was standing in his homeland once more.

And for the first time since the fall of Dalamud, he felt hope.

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!"

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

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.

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.

PSA: IF WE’RE IN A MUTUAL AND YOU WANT TO THROW A STARTER AT ME BECAUSE YOUR MUSE WANTS MINE OR YOU JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY IN GENERAL —- JUST DO IT. I PROMISE, I’LL SCREAM WITH HAPPINESS IF YOU DO. YOU’RE NOT BOTHERING ME ; I WANT TO ROLEPLAY WITH ALL OF THE PEOPLE I FOLLOW. OKAY, YOU’RE ALL WONDERFUL. PCE.

Day 16 - Third-rate

There were many a day that Kaleh'a enjoyed the warmth and camaraderie of a tavern or a bar, and tonight, tonight was no different! He was laughing, cajoling with a group of adventurers, the three well travelled fellows roaring with laughter as the Miqo'te archer with stories from all around the Black Shroud regaled them with his hunts, and the comical situations he sometimes found himself in.

To some, it would have sounded fantastical, but to these adventurers, the details Kaleh'a shared, the way he wove his story, the precision and keen eye of the young man was a slice of normality in their storied lives, and they loved it! Much as Kaleh'a longed to be an adventurer, some of them missed their own humble beginnings. And to hear of one in the making, it brought a smile to their collective faces.

"No, I swear!" Kaleh'a spread his hands on the table, raising one hand a bit above the other. "The damn thing was three times my height! It looked like a pincushion, six arrows in its chest, and the big old bear just kept coming! I didn't know what to do, with three arrows left, no backup, I was honestly, honestly terrified! Anyone who claims otherwise would be lying!"

"Hear, hear!" One of the adventurers chuckled out, lifting his tankard. The other two were nodding along, one's scaled tail wagging in understanding as Kaleh'a's own blonde one flicked about.

"So, I had maybe a shot left, one, and I had to make it count, and with it charging at me, it's head was just becoming larger, and larger, and larger. So I had a perfect chance, a single chance to -"

"Third-rate hunter."

The grumbled, barely above the sounds of the tavern slight hurled at the back of the Miqo'te's head shut him up real quick, left his ears flicking back, then down, his smile faltering for a moment, before he glanced at the adventurers and shrugged. "Sorry folks, being a hunter and a Keeper of the Moon in these parts brings up some...bad feelings among the...hey...what are you...?"

The lead adventurer was standing, moving in tandem with the other two to approach the man who had hurled the insult, and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. The Hyur turned with a scowl, glaring at the man who had interrupted him, mouth opening to -

The solid fist to his chin sent his head thumping to the bar, then sliding off to the ground, leaving Kaleh'a slack jawed, and the tavern dead silent, the limp, unconscious body unceremoniously nudged by a booted toe out of the way, as the adventurer looked around and raised his hands as if to ask, "Anyone else?" He got no answer from the tavern folk, most turning away back to their drinks, and the few who looked ready to jump up were appeased when he fished a handful of gil from his pocket and placed it on the bar, nodding to the barkeep. "Next round's on me, for everyone!"

The roar of approval as the trio walked back towards Kaleh'a had turquoise eyes misting, the Miqo'te rapidly rubbing away the evidence and replacing it with a beaming smile as the three sat down, and the leader chuckled out, "Sorry, we don't take kindly to those who insult our friends. So, where were you?"

Kaleh'a never again told a story quite as good as the one he did that night, or with as much gusto, as he and his new friends drank well into the night.