Iyrnskylt Berktyrnsyn

Naturalist, Explorer, Librarian

"With a fair wind and a strong back,
there will ever be a new horizon."

Basic Information

Aliases/Nicknames: Iyrn (Few people ever get past the first part of his name)Gender: MaleOrientation: HeterosexualRace: Roegadyn, Sea WolfOrigin: Old SharlayanAge: 41Appearance: Fairly average by all standards, though his age is beginning to show more than just a bit. Wrinkles have started to creep across his brow and around his eyes, and his hairline appears to be in constant retreat from an unwinnable battle. While he maintains the necessary grooming to keep up with expected appearances, it is quite obvious that little in the way of effort goes towards looking his best. Though still more than strong enough to perform his current duties, he has started to put on a bit of weight, growing a bit softer as he’s begun to slow down with the onset of middle age.Skills/Abilities: A wanderer at heart, Iyrn takes some amount of pride in his ability to find and obtain anything he sets his mind to, whether it be vegetable, mineral, or in some cases, even animal. To further these journeys, he is more than capable of creating most things he requires with relative ease, often from locally sourced materials. While he prefers not to engage in conflict if he can avoid it, he finds that his skills are best put to use as a medic, patching up the injured and caring for the infirm after a battle. He has recently discovered, however, that a botanist’s hatchet can be a fairly potent weapon when applied liberally to the face of an aggressor.Likes: Walks in the wilderness, finding new places, reading, warm fires, honestyDislikes: Idleness, deadlines, people being ingenuine, putting on airs, feeling uselessOccupation: Craftsman, explorer, librarian, former Sharlayan gleaner.Residence: Recently moved to a small apartment in Ishgard's Empyreum district. He spends a good deal of his time caring for his father in Limsa Lominsa.Personality: Iyrn is quiet by nature, having spent much of his life simply doing what needed to be done to support his family and giving little care to other relationships. Though he isn’t entirely uncomfortable around large crowds, he is most at ease when there is something that needs to be done. Most of his interactions with strangers are usually courteous if not a bit bland or awkward, as he has more experience keeping people as business associates and professional peers than actual friends. That being said, he greatly enjoys hearing tales of other people’s lives, and will listen enraptured to a story of adventure or personal pride. He usually offers very little in the way of himself up front in a conversation, not honestly seeing why other people would be interested in his day-to-day activities. Left to his own devices, he is often happy to people watch and enjoy the environment.

Background

Beginnings

Born to the pairing of a Sharlayan scholar and gleaner, Iyrnskylt was given a very stable childhood, if not necessarily a particularly loving one. His father, whose gleaning duties took him far and wide, imparted more practical wisdom to Iyrn, while his mother did her absolute best to mold her son into the image of a dispassionate and dutiful student. Iyrn took to his studies fairly well, and while he was never the epitome of Sharlayan excellence, he acquitted himself well enough that his more demanding mother at least viewed him with some sense of pride. It was his father’s tales of foreign lands and strange creatures that occupied much of young Iyrn’s time, however, and upon reaching adulthood, he abandoned his formal studies and journeyed out from the Northern Empty to follow in his father’s footsteps. This had no small effect on his relationship with his mother, who to this day still does not contact her son unless absolutely necessary, incensed that he spurned the future that she had envisioned for him.

A Gleaner's Life

Upon arrival in Sharlayan’s Dravanian colony, Iyrn quickly set to work searching out his father and setting out into the nearby wilds to perform his duties as a newly commissioned gleaner. The latter turned out to be significantly easier than the former, as Iryn found himself quite gifted in seeking out and procuring all manners of specimens to send back to Old Sharlayan. Through this time, he gained a distinct appreciation for the stark mountains of northern Eorzea, delving deep into their forests and caverns in search of ever more rare and impressive plants and minerals. He found a sense of peace in the lonely treks through the countryside, finding happiness in the small pleasures of a warm campfire or small cup of soup prepared from local flora and fauna. After years of such work, he gained a small reputation for himself as an expert in practical applications of Dravanian and Coerthan materials, and he was never at a want for items to procure.

Family Found

It was roughly five years from his arrival in Dravania that Iyrn finally found his father, much unchanged from how he remembered the man, save for one crucial detail. The man had another family, having borne a daughter with a local woman. Iyrn was immediately surprised by such a discovery, doubly so by the fact that his newly found half-sister, Sthalswys, was only a few years younger than himself. The dawning realization that his father had been unfaithful and secretive for so many years was almost too much to bear, and very nearly tore the son and father apart. As fate would have it though, cooler heads prevailed, and the two reconciled, albeit in a strained manner, and Iyrn began to get to know the family he never knew he had.Time continued to pass by in the Dravanian Hinterlands, and Iyrn continued his work. He still saw his father from time to time as they passed each other in the course of their gleaning duties, but for the most part kept their interactions brief. It was with his half-sister that Iyrn had the most interaction over those years, finding that she was a surprisingly gifted and brilliant young woman, with knowledge beyond what an average local could claim. Iyrn repeatedly offered to send her off to Old Sharlayan to study, but as she had since been wed and had two small children, she balked at the idea of leaving for any length of time. It wasn’t until her children were old enough that they didn’t need constant supervision that she began to think harder on the idea of furthering her studies. In time, she finally accepted the offer, on the one condition that Iyrn always be present to look after her son and daughter, their father, Aergahr, having sadly been killed in an accident some years before. As the dutiful uncle that he was, Iyrn gave her his word that no harm would come to her children, and after pulling what limited connections he had, watched his sibling sail away to a brighter future.

Missing the Boat

That future, however, was hardly as bright for her children. After the Garlean Empire’s attacked on Ala Mhigo, Old Sharlayan decided to cut its losses and proceeded with its plan to abandon the Dravanian colony. In a blisteringly fast exodus, all resident Sharlayans were entreated to return back to their island nation. This was a group which Iyrn was most certainly a part of, but which his niece and nephew were sadly not. Caught up in the bureaucratic nonsense of their lineage, and without their mother or grandfather there to vouch for them, the two children were seemingly destined to be left alone in an abandoned city. Iyrn couldn’t let that happen. Though they were not his own, he loved them just as much as he would his own children, and his oath to their mother, now stuck an ocean away, set his course. With a mix of anxiety and fear, Iyrn watched the last ship leave the colony, standing there alone with his two young wards.The three set out into the Dravanian wilds, making their way for Ishgard, hoping that they would be able to find some degree of asylum while they planned their next move. All they were met with though was rejection, with the isolationist nation turning away the frost-bitten refugees under concerns over internal stability and ongoing war. Dejected, but not defeated, Iyrn turned to the south, crossing the snow-covered plains of Coerthas on his way to Gridania. He did his best to keep his niece and nephew fed and heartened, his survival skills as a gleaner vital to their continued health. Still, he knew that the children wouldn’t be able to last long in this environment, sleeping in caves and under rocky outcrops. It was hard enough to keep himself warm and hale, much less three people. As the journey continued, depression and desperation set in, as the seemingly endless fields of snow never gave way to the green forests that might be their salvation.It was on one particularly frigid night, that the three stumbled across a campfire already set up in a nearby cavern. Not wanting to pass up on a golden opportunity for warmth, they quickly made their way towards the light, only to be greeted by a familiar face. There was Iyrn’s father, eating a small meal, just as dumbfounded to see his son and grandchildren as they were to see him. After some quick catching up, Iyrn discovered that his father’s linkpearl had ceased functioning some time ago, and had been entirely unaware of the recent exodus from Dravania. Wracked by guilt, his father vowed to help Iyrn in getting his grandchildren to a safe place, and from there the group of three became four, all the better now with two people able to provide for the journey. Fortune seemed to be improving at last, with each day bringing them closer to Gridania’s green woods, but tragedy was sadly close behind.

Breaking and Mending

Close to the Ishgard-Gridania border, Iyrn’s group came under attack. Though they were almost out of the lands threatened by dravanian hordes, a lone wyvern set upon them with unbridled fury. Despite strength born from years of wandering and hard labor, Iyrn and his father were no warriors, and flailed desperately to defend themselves and their charges with what implements they had. Hatchet and pick met hardened scale and rending claw, but the fight was most assuredly one-sided in the wyvern’s favor. During the battle, Iyrn took a brutal hit across his chest by the creature’s tail, knocking the wind out of him and taking him out of the fight. He watched in terror as the beast closed in, fangs open wide and ready to finish him off, when suddenly a metal spike ripped through the top of the wyvern’s head, his father’s pick having spared his life with a well-placed swing. The victory was not to be savored however, as the beast thrashed in its final moments, sending Iyrn’s father flying off to slam into a nearby cliffside.Iyrn scrambled to his father’s aid, relieved to see that he was still breathing, but horrified that he wouldn’t wake, his head covered in a massive bruise that was only deepening in hue as minutes ticked by. Knowing he had no time to lose, Iyrn shouldered his father’s body and called for the children to make haste, directing his broken and battered group towards Gridania. In the following days, Iyrn’s father made no improvement, still breathing, but unable to wake, the most activity he could muster being unintelligible mumbling. When they finally reached civilization, they were met with a much warmer welcome than they received in Ishgard. Iyrn left his father in the care of the local conjurers, who gave him their word that they would do everything in their power to heal the man as best they could. In the meantime, Iyrn set to finding a place to stay for himself and his niece and nephew, awaiting the time when their little makeshift family would be whole again.

New Homes

Weeks passed, and the conjurer’s proved as good as their word, with Iyrn’s father being healed to as close to perfectly as they could muster. After offering his most earnest thanks, Iyrn and his father set to planning their next step, and weighed their options. Having little possibility of returning to Sharlayan in the near future, the two turned their attention to their young companions. Roegadyn were far from a common sight in Gridania, and after some deliberation, Iyrn and his father decided it would be best for the two to grow up around others of their own race. With that, the group finished their business in Gridania and booked passage for Limsa Lominsa.Upon arriving in the port city, the lives of the four began to stabilize. Iyrn’s father employed himself with the arcanist’s guild, using what knowledge he had from his Sharlayan education to help bolster their own aetherological theories. Iyrn himself took to performing odd tasks around the area for the many artisan’s guilds, creating weapons and armor for the city-state’s military as well as taking commission work for local adventurers. With both men so employed, Iyrn’s niece and nephew gained a comfortable life and a great step towards productive futures as adults.

The Present and Future

Many years have passed from his arrival in Limsa Lominsa these days, but Iyrn is much the same as he was, albeit with less hair, more wrinkles, and a bit more exhaustion than before. His nephew, Wysskoef, has since become a capable scholar, and his niece, Waeksyws, has taken after her uncle and sought out adventure and new horizons of her own. Now just Iyrn and his father remain, and while Iyrn hasn’t changed a great deal, his father certainly has. The old head injury suffered from the wyvern proved itself to have never fully healed, and as time passed by, the old roegadyn’s mental faculties started to wane. Eventually having to be dismissed from the arcanist’s guild for his infirmity, Iyrn has continued to watch his father degrade over time, his once wonderful mind now reduced to half-intelligible slurs with the occasional bouts of clarity. Though he doubts it does any lasting good, Iyrn occupies himself between commission work by seeking out new oddities and items, just to bring them back to his father and see if any hint of recognition plays across his face. The light that springs to his father’s eyes when he feels some new discovery with his worn old hands is the most that Iyrn can hope for at this point, and he seeks to keep that light alive for as long as possible.It's at this point that Iyrn finds himself, caretaker for his father, craftsman for those who need his expertise, or guide for those who need his knowledge of the natural world. He’s come to a crossroads so to speak, fully aware that his current lot in life will not last forever, and unsure as to what path he needs to take for the future. It’s a thought both terrifying and liberating as Iyrn forges ahead into his middle years, but come war or calamity, he is resolved not to let what remains of his life go to waste. To ensure that such a fate does not come to pass, he has moved to the newly opened residential wards of Ishgard to make it his mission to bring literature and education to the people of the Brume and other underprivileged portions of the populace. He still ventures out into the wilderness on occasion, his old life as a gleaner still stirring him to action, but for now his pet project and the care of his father consume the majority of his time.

Ventures

Gathering & Crafting

Iyrnskylt is more than happy to utilize his former gleaning experience to help others procure wares that they either cannot obtain themselves, or do not have the time or inclination to do so. The work is a welcome distraction from his normal routine, and he will happily negotiate a fair price for any job sent his way. Please feel free to contact him in game if you wish to make use of his services.

Empyrean Apocrypha

Iyrnskylt's current pet project, this location seeks to bring literature of all kinds to the people of Ishgard. Housed under the belfry of a small chapel, it sports a wide array of books common throughout Eorzea, as well as a few select volumes of Iyrn's own choice collection. Refreshments and items useful in the creation and binding of tomes are available to visitors as they enjoy a quiet place to curl up with a good book.The many tomes within the collection are free to the public, and Iyrn likes nothing more than to see one of his beloved books walk out with an excited new owner. While donations are accepted, they are by no means required, and any patron is free to keep any number of volumes of their choice for as long as they like.

• https://empyreanapocrypha.carrd.co

Roleplaying Hooks

Contact info

If you wish to contact me, please feel free to do so in game or via Discord. I'd love to hear from you. I am open to RP at almost any time that I am online, and would be ecstatic to find new friends in this wonderful world that has been crafted for us. If I do not respond immediately, please give me some time. Other responsibilities do take me away from Final Fantasy at times, loathe though I am to leave.

Stories and Logs

Contained here are different stories that detail events that have occurred within Iyrnskylt's life. While they are considered to be canon to Iyrn's own timeline, please refrain from bringing up their contents unless they have been explicitly conveyed to you in character. These should serve primarily as a diversion and a way to better understand Iyrn's character should you wish to interact with him in the future. Even if they are by no means works of art, it is hoped that you will gain at least some measure of enjoyment from their reading.

• Closure
• An Expedition to Hell's Lid
• With Lost Gnath

Closure

Chapel bells tolled out midday as snow continued to fall upon Ishgard. Not that the weather was unusual, mind you, snow was more the norm than clear skies, especially in this region and season. Soft wide flakes drifted lazily down before piling on the cobblestones below. The Empyreum was still a fairly new part of the city, but it hadn’t taken long for it to be christened by the same endless winter that had long bathed its neighboring districts in a gentle sheet of white.Several flakes found their way to the balding head of a roegadyn man, pacing impatiently before a chapel’s doors. The initial cold did little to bother him, but the quick melting upon contact caused wholly unpleasant sheets of water to pour down his brow and behind his eyewear.“Curse it,” Iyrn huffed, wiping the melting snow from his face and drying his glasses. “It isn’t like her to be late.”The street before the chapel was entirely empty. Hardly a surprise given the section of the city he was in, but a disappointment nonetheless. Iyrn had been able to rent the space near the building’s belltower for a pittance; a price made a bit more reasonable by the sorry state the structure found itself in. Having been one of the last structures renovated during Ishgard’s restoration, it was almost bereft of furniture, clergy, and congregation. It had certainly crossed Iyrn’s mind that his rent was simply being used as a way to get the place up and running again, but for a paltry sum of gil a month, his contribution would do little to aid in a swift reopening.Still, the quiet and lack of commotion in the area had made the move easier. He’d been able to make his own adjustments to his new quarters without bother, and able to move his collection of tomes without questions from curious citizens or nosy priests. It had brought Iyrn no small amount of amusement that he, a man born under the protection of Byregot, had smuggled Thaliak’s wares into the house of Halone. Gods, he only needed to earn the favor or ire of nine more deities and he’d be well known to the whole of the Twelve.That thought was cut short, however, by the telltale sound of clawed feet on stone, as a carriage pulled into view. Drawn by two black-feathered chocobo, the vehicle rolled up the street quickly, only to stop in front of the still pacing Iyrn. The birds were of a different stock than their southern brethren, and Iyrn’s mind immediately went out to his own Ernie, sitting stabled at the other end of the district. The poor chocobo was having a hard time adjusting to the weather, his feathers only now having started to become thicker and downier after a few weeks in Ishgard. He would be fine though. Chocobo were hardy creatures. Iyrn only wished that he would prove to be half as resilient today.The carriage opened, and out stepped a woman that could have made even Ishgard feel all the colder for her presence. Even in her seventh decade of life, Iyrn’s mother was an imposing figure. Though not particularly tall by roegadyn standards, she had the uncanny ability to command any room she stepped into. Despite the open air, Iyrn couldn’t help but feel small and confined with such an individual before him, regardless of the fact that he’d outstripped her in height, many, many years ago.Wasting no time, she strode straight up to Iyrn in long deliberate steps, pausing only just out of arm’s reach. It was remarkable how little the woman had aged. True, her hair was more grey than black, but her face had defied time with just as much obstinance as she had denied previous requests for a meeting. Wrinkles were nothing more than small lines carved into her skin, shallow and nearly invisible, the product of some poor stoneworker who had naught to show for years of effort. Her strong countenance was reflected by her gaze as she stared back at Iyrn with all the dispassionate interest a trueborn Sharlayan scholar could muster.“Welcome mother, I…”“Pleasantries can wait Mr. Berktyrnsyn. I trust you have not called me out here just to exchange greetings. My time is short and interest already strained to investigate this little project of yours.”Iyrn’s shoulders couldn’t help but slump. Not even his first name. He’d given up hope long ago at ever being her son again, but it would have been nice to at least be Iyrnskylt. Iyrn. Anything with some sense of connection.“Mother, I assure you, your travel was…”Once again, she cut him off. “It had best not be for nothing. My time is valuable and cannot afford to be wasted. And if you must insist on being disrespectful, it is Ms. Klinkirzwyn, thank you. Let’s not pretend as if this is anything but a professional exchange.”Defeat had already started to settle in. This had been a foolish idea. There was nothing that could mend this rift between mother and son, and no tiny collection of books would change that. The world felt so cold, and not simply thanks to the snowflakes constantly falling on his balding pate. With a heavy heart, Iyrn turned to the heavy doors of the chapel, doing his best to still look resolute as he grabbed the handle and held one open.Without a moment’s pause, his mother strode in, undaunted by their previous exchange. Midstride she called out behind her, “Ms. Berktyrnwyn, the bags if you would,” and proceeded into the building.Iyrn nearly let go of the door and crushed his mother at that. Shocked, he turned back to the carriage, only to see another roegadyn woman exiting. Closer to his age, though a few years younger, she had a similar amount of gray slipping into her hair as Iyrn himself; brown, tipped with just a bit of silver. Wrestling with two large totes, she stumbled up the steps to the chapel, a stark contrast to the last traveler of that path. Reaching the doorway, she looked up, a soft face smiling wide between foggy breaths.“Lovely day isn’t it Iyrn? Hells, it’s a miracle the air itself isn’t solid with the current company.”“Aye Sthal,” Iryn replied, “though it just got a little warmer. Now are you going to head inside or leave me holding the door till nightfall?”Still smiling, the woman lugged the totes inside the chapel and brushed the snow from her clothes. In stark contrast to his mother’s cleanly pressed robes, her coat was rumpled, well-worn, and obviously much loved. Sthalswys had never been one for appearances, throwing herself headlong into either her studies or her family. She knew precisely what was important, and ordered her life as such. Now sporting a grin of his own, Iyrn let the door close, shutting out the cold and snow. Turning toward the interior however, he was met with a tackle that nearly knocked his breath out.“It’s good to see you brother,” Sthalswys said as she caught him in a tight embrace. “We shouldn’t go so long apart. Waek and Wyss miss you too!”Iyrn returned his half-sister’s embrace. Though they hadn’t known each other until they were both grown, they’d quickly become lifelong friends, as close as any full-blooded siblings. They’d been apart for years at this point, Sharlayan’s rather restrictive policies on entry and exit responsible for their long separation. But now, such policies were a bit more lax, a change that felt all the more welcome as he hugged his friend tight.“Ahem,” came a voice from further into the chapel, a none too pleased Ms. Klinkirzwyn tapping her foot none too softly against the stone floor. “Your affections can be seen to on your own time. The totes Ms. Bertyrnwyn. Here. Now.” She turned and sat in one fluid motion, the straight-backed Ishgardian arm chair seeing almost relaxed in comparison to her rigid posture. Arms folded neatly on the table prepared for this occasion, she seemed even more the stern professor waiting for two unruly students to cease their tomfoolery and behave.Sthalswys released Iyrn and gave him a smirk before grabbing the totes and rushing towards the table. She knew full well why this meeting was taking place, and the simple act of a tour of his new home couldn’t be farther from the truth. With a sigh, Iyrn followed his sister and turned to his own seat, facing the incredibly harsh face of his mother.Sthal was already piling tomes on the table, extracted carefully from each of the totes. Volumes on natural sciences, aetherology, and history were among them, as well as no few portions of the Bibliotheca Historica. The latter, a constantly updated source of information catalogued by the finest Sharlayan minds, would have been the crown jewel of any scholar’s collection. Iyrn, however, found the spread deeply upsetting. He’d originally written his mother with a request for books to start a small library, one dedicated to helping children develop their minds. They of, course, needed literature to do so, aids to help teach them their letters and numbers.“I’ve carefully selected these volumes for young, inquiring minds,” his mother began, sounding like nothing so much as a lecturer before an assembly.Iyrn hardly paid attention. These books, were too much; fit for personal use by a Studium alumnus or young prodigy, but not for some destitute child from the Brume. He should have known better. His mother ever considered brilliance the standard, and anything below it was unworthy of attention. In her eyes, if these children couldn’t understand such juvenile concepts, then they had little reason to set foot in a library at all. Iyrn could already feel the sting of old pain growing inside. The harsh rejection as he'd abandoned his formal studies years ago and his subsequent dismissal as just another failed project. That wouldn’t happen to another child. Not on his watch.Gathering what courage he could, Iyrn tried to put on a stern face. Such an attempt often failed, as his niece and nephew had told him when he’d attempted to admonish them in the past. Still, confronted with the unfeeling statue of a woman before him, he needed to bring his all. A stonemason’s chisel wouldn’t work, but a sledgehammer might at least make a dent. He just needed to aim it carefully.“…and these tomes on aetherological theory, basic though they are, should serve as suitable primers.”There! It was time to strike. She’d pause for just a moment before continuing. Iyrn had been on the receiving end of these lectures too many times to not recognize the opportunity. Focusing all of his will towards his blow, he readied himself to take control of the conversation.“Now Ms. Klinkirzwyn, while I appreciate…”Cold gray eyes fell upon him immediately, courage withering with a glance. “When I am finished, Mr. Berktyrnsyn, I will hear your opinion.”The hammer shattered. There was no reclaiming this meeting now. Defeated, Iyrn fell back into his chair. He’d never felt smaller. Sparing a glance at his half-sister, he was pleased to see that Sthal, at least, was suffering though his mother’s unceasing speech much better than himself. It had always been a wonder of his if their father had known how they would end up when he named them. Iryn, was iron, an unrefined lump that was the basis for something great, but weaker than something forged and purified. Sthal, on the other hand, was steel. Refined, and oh so much stronger and resilient. She’d excelled where he had failed, going on to earn honors in Sharlayan, and even managing to align herself with a woman who should have dismissed her as the bastard offspring of an unfaithful husband. He couldn’t deny that he’d had some level of jealousy towards his sister on occasion. She’d gone on to have a family, accolades, and a comfortable life. Still, such feelings were far from Iyrn’s mind at the moment. For now, he was simply happy that she was here to be the steel shield between himself and his mother.Another pause. Despite her stone-like exterior, the woman still had to breathe, if only briefly. Such an opportunity wouldn’t invite another attack from Iyrn, however. Such attempts were beyond him at this point. That resignation made the following blow even more surprising as Sthal instead picked up her brother’s hammer and swung it with precision, creating just the tiniest break in the impenetrable lecture that both found themselves trapped inside.“Ms. Klinkirzwyn, pardon my interruption, but it would appear that our host has yet to offer us any refreshment.”A side-glance from Sthal was all it needed to show her apology for placing the blame on Iyrn, but he immediately understood the opportunity he was being given.“Oh yes!” exclaimed Iyrn, capitalizing on the break created by his sibling. “My deepest apologies for forgetting before. Tea for both of you I’d assume? I have a few different blends if that would please…”His mother’s eyes snapped to him; their cold gray barely changed from before. “I trust you have a local Ishgardian blend? Please ensure that you do not overly use the milk, my stomach will not suffer such an insult on the return trip. The same for Ms. Berktyrnwyn if you would.”Iyrn could see his sister almost protest as she had her order made for her, but she thankfully retained her composure and simply smiled at her brother with a slight nod. She’d given him an opportunity to escape and set their plan into motion. The stage had been set, and now he simply had to assemble the last player.
Standing a bit too quickly, Iyrn clumsily replaced his chair at the table and gave a deep bow to the women still seated. “I’ll be back shortly. The pot’s been boiling since before you arrived, so it shouldn’t take too terribly long to prepare.”The smallest of acknowledgements was all he received from his mother, alongside a similarly small shrug from his sister. Still, that was all he needed. Turning sharply, he made his way up the stairs from the ground floor, climbing towards the belfry, his library, and the secret of the evening. All things considered, the day could have gone worse. His mother could have denied his invitation again, and he’d be no closer to reaching resolution with her than he’d been for decades.Steps creaked as he made the long ascent, each board threatening to break with every heavy footfall. It was little surprise. The chapel had been made for much lighter elezen and hyur, after all. He’d have to reinforce the stairs in the future, but falling through and impacting the ground below would still be far less painful than what was about to occur. Reaching the top, he opened the door to his little library, packed floor to ceiling with books of every subject and genre. The fireplace was still roaring in the corner, flames kept safely away from the tomes nearby by a strong grate.He could still hear his teapot whistling, and proceeded to go and check on the water level. Iyrn was a bit disappointed to see that more of its contents had evaporated into steam than anticipated. His mother had been more longwinded than he’d thought possible. Still, there was enough water for two full cups of tea. He’d be more than happy to forego refreshment himself if it would placate the people downstairs. Placing tea leaves in two mismatched cups, he poured the water and set the pot aside. The drinks would require only a little time to steep; Coerthan tea leaves were smaller than most and leached their contents far quicker than other varieties. Letting out a satisfied sigh, the first of the evening, he turned to regard the other occupant of the library.Sitting in front of the fireplace was an older roegadyn man, head entirely bald and wrinkles covering his face. Berktyrn, his father. Though not much older than his mother, Iyrn’s father looked much more the elder. Still strong in body despite his age, he was at a glance much more venerable, though such appearances were deceiving. Putting on his kindest smile, Iyrn walked over towards his father’s chair. He was the reason this meeting was occurring, the discussion about books for the library being little more than a ruse. Gently, Iyrn placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. The man wouldn’t startle, but he likely wouldn’t realize someone else was there without some form of contact.

“Ah, son!” he exclaimed, turning his bright green eyes up towards Iyrn. “Would you look at this? Meracydian coral! Such a splendid specimen at that. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to go back there some day.”The man was holding a small chunk of coral in his large, rough hands. Slightly pink with hints of blue, it was indeed a splendid specimen. Caressing it gently, he explored every raised surface and depressed polyp, a grin of childlike delight covering his face. It was lovely to see him so happy, though there was just one problem with the current scene.The coral wasn’t Meracydian.It was a common sample that Iyrn had found near the docks in Limsa Lominsa, washed up after a particularly heavy storm. He’d brought it back to his father as something to keep him occupied, a treasure to help remind him of his past days as a gleaner. There was a time when he would have known that; when he would have known the difference between Meracydian and Lominsan. Of course, there was a time when he’d remembered Iyrn’s name. Now he was simply “son.” He hadn’t been Iyrn in years. Fate was cruel sometimes. One parent wouldn’t call him by his name, and the other couldn’t remember what it was in the first place.Taking the coral from his father’s hands, Iyrn placed it on the nearby end table, setting it beside the man’s half-eaten slice of archon loaf. “We have visitors father. They’re waiting downstairs just for you.”“Oh! Visitors!” the man exclaimed, eyes lighting up even more. “Come then son, help me up, would you?”Smiling, Iyrn helped his father up out of the chair. Old though he was, the man was still heavily muscled, and with a grunt, Iyrn brought him to his feet. Wobbling slightly, his father corrected himself quickly, and regarded his son with innocent eyes.“Should I bring the bread? Do you think they’d like it?” he asked, gaze drifting back to the unfinished snack near his chair.“No father, I think they’ll be fine without it,” answered Iyrn, keeping his smile as best he could. “Though they did request some tea. Do you think they could carry one of the cups?”Nodding emphatically, his father offered his hand, which Iyrn quickly filled with one of the cups of tea, now steeped to an at least adequate degree. Inhaling the steam from the cup, the older man once again smiled wide.
“Thavnairian, son? My you have a taste for the exotic these days.”Iyrn winced, but offered no correction. “Aye, father, straight from Thavnair. Do be careful with it. I don’t want to have to cross the ocean just to get a few more leaves!”Moving carefully, his father exited the room first, taking slow steps on the creaking stairs as he made his descent. The prelude was now over, the true performance about to begin. Closing the door behind him, Iyrn couldn’t help but feel fear well up in his stomach. Having his mother and father meet after so long was something that most certainly needed to happen, but the outcome from such a reunion was far from a known quantity. He could already hear the shouting, the anger, the insults reverberating around his head. This would certainly be a trial, but Sthal was there. Hopefully her support would be all he required to survive the oncoming assault.
Reaching the ground floor, Iyrn took the cup from his father, his smiling face still having no idea what was in store. With a deep breath, he strode into the room where he’d left the two women, bracing himself for what was to come.“Sthal, Ms. Klinkirzwyn, I’ve returned with your refreshments. I’ve also brought a guest…”His mother was standing before he could even finish the sentence, back straight and walking towards the door. Iyrn had thought it impossible for the woman to seem even more rigid, but she was less a roegadyn striding across the floor, and more of a marble pillar gliding across its surface.“Wait, mother, I…” stammered Iyrn, his voice already faltering, looking between the retreating form of his mother and his still grinning father.“This meeting is over. Ms. Berktyrnwyn, the bags.” She had already reached the chapel’s doors, one clenched fist on the handle, without even looking over her shoulder at the new arrival, save for a brief glance when Iyrn and his father had descended. If nothing was done now, she’d be lost again, and there would be no getting her to return.“No. I don’t think I will,” responded Sthal coolly, walking over to stand next to Iyrn and their father. She took the cup from the older man, and calmly sipped from it. She was in control. Thank the Twelve for her being there. Iyrn had always loved his sister, always known she was a brilliant woman. Today had simply reinforced what he already knew.“I beg your pardon, Ms. Berktyrnwyn?” replied his mother, slowly turning from the door to regard the three thorns that were causing her no small amount of discomfort. The stony shell of the woman had started to crack, lines beginning to race across her unmarred face as fury built inside. “Get. The. Bags. We are leaving! Now!”Iyrn hadn’t heard an outburst like that since the day he had quit his formal studies. The woman was so cold and collected with her emotions, that any hint of anger was a rarity. Full on shouting like this was unheard of. Huffing and puffing, she continued her protests, bringing every bit of her ire down upon his sister. Iyrn could barely stand to watch the onslaught unfold, but Sthal stayed strong. She weathered each and every blow like her namesake, a steel bulwark against anything that threatened to crush the hopes that had been placed upon the day.Insults began to fly. Directed at his sister and himself, they stung, but were shrugged off.
Despite Sthalswys’ endurance, even she needed support. Iyrn may not have been as strong on his own, but he was more than able to provide support to his sibling. When the verbal onslaught became too much for her to bear, he provided the reinforcement. Every palisade needed to be maintained if it was to weather a long battle, and iron stakes and bars would make sure it lasted the night. His mother had inched closer and closer as she lost more and more control over her stony disposition, having moved back to the table where the meeting had started not even an hour before. Neither Iyrn or Sthal had been able to get more than a few words in edgewise, as they stood there waiting for the storm to end.“The gall of you children to bring this… this…waste of life before me after what he’s done!” his mother continued. “Do you have others waiting in the wings to introduce me to? More bastard mistakes to taunt me with? More reminders… more…”“Denny?”At that name, she stopped, eyes still filled with rage, but voice finally given a rest. Her gaze locked on the man who’d uttered the name. Smiling, completely unphased by the emotional explosion of the past few minutes, her addressor stood next to his two children, no semblance of unhappiness on his face. His own eyes tinged with tears, not of rage, but instead of unadulterated joy.“It is you, Denny!” he exclaimed, voice coming strong despite the tears in his eyes. Moving closer to his former wife he continued simply. “I’ve missed you.”Iyrn’s mother recoiled as he approached, rage and fury not enough to push her past the sheer awkwardness of her tirade and the unphased nature of her adulterous husband. “How dare you. How dare you even think to call me by such a name,” she stammered, for the first time on the back foot since she stepped through the chapel’s doors. “You’ve no right to call me anything of the sort.”“But you’re my Denny,” his father continued, confusion settling over his face. The pet name was something he’d used to refer to Iyrn’s mother for as long as they’d been together. In the man’s fractured mind, she was still his wife. No impropriety had torn them apart. No sore feelings should have been there from the start. Looking back to his children, the man’s inability to comprehend the situation was plain to see. If the time to act wasn’t now, then it would never come.Nodding to his sister, Iyrn stepped forward. “Mother, all we want you to do is talk. Sit with him for just a short time.”Face still contorted in anger, but with less of an edge than before, his mother regarded him. “There’s nothing to say. I buried him and my misguided years as his wife years ago.”
“Then there’s nothing to fear from a simple chat,” said Sthalswys. “If you’ve truly put the past aside, then there’s nothing that can hurt you here in this room.”“Please, mother. Just a few minutes,” Iyrn continued. “We’ve all changed. If not for me and if not for him, do it for yourself. Show that everything is well and truly finished. I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this, but let this be my last request. Not as colleague to colleague, but for once, as son to mother.”“Never…” she replied, tears starting to well up in her eyes, the hardened shell of her face finally broken in its entirety. “I will never forgive him. Or you.”“We don’t need forgiveness mother. Just closure. Please.”He’d barely finished when his mother opened her mouth to protest yet again.

Minutes crawled by like hours, and Iyrn felt as though he’d aged another decade in the time since his mother and father had ascended back up to his little library. Shouting had continued for a short time after they’d been left alone, one sided of course, but now the quiet was almost more unnerving. He still had no idea how he and Sthalswys had managed to convince their mother to see reason, but their plan had worked. Now all that there was left to do was wait.The tea, what was left of it, had gone cold, leaving only an unpleasant bitterness that seemed a bit more suited to the occasion. Looking up from the sad state of his cup, he met the eyes of his sister, her face tied up in the same nervous expression as his own. She’d been more than necessary to achieve their ends today, and instrumental in assuring that his mother hadn’t simply up and left the moment their gambit was revealed. Still, the whole mess of the afternoon had taken its toll on her, and the vibrant smile that she arrived with had long since been drained of much of its splendor.Clearing his throat, Iyrn broke the silence.
“So… you mentioned that Waek and Wyss are well?” he stammered, trying his best to bring up a much happier topic than the current one at hand.“Oh, yes!” she replied. “Waekswys is off galivanting around the Bounty. Jumped aboard some ship or another as hired help. Honestly, the girl can never seem to stay in one place.” A smile crept across her face as she spoke, half from fond remembrance and half from having a pleasant distraction.“That sounds like her,” Iyrn chuckled. “Couldn’t keep her by my side for more than a few minutes even when she was growing up in Limsa. Though her hopping aboard some random vessel does worry me. Hopefully it’s not too rough of a crew.”Sighing, his sister shook her head. “She’s twenty summers now Iyrn. Her and Wysskoef both. They can handle themselves.” Her smile widened as she continued. “Besides. You can hardly blame the girl for her wanderlust. Not with being around you and father for as long as she was.”It was Iyrn’s turn to break into a grin as his gaze fell down to his half-empty cup. Both his niece and nephew were near and dear to his heart, having practically raised the two since they were young children. Knowing they were well and enjoying their lives was all he could really ask for, though he did miss them at times. Those days of yesteryear when the three of them would walk along the beaches of La Noscea, looking for choice fishing spots or combing the sands for shells were long past. Now Waek was off doing who knows what in the Bounty, and Wyss was likely becoming the scholar that his uncle never was. Their lives were their own now. He just often wished he could still be a bigger part of them.Shaking nostalgia from his head, Iyrn looked back to his sister. “And Wyss? He should have graduated from the Studium by this point. Any new developments on his end?”His sister’s laugh was as surprising both for the genuineness of its tone and the volume with which it broke the relative quiet of the chapel. “I should say so Iyrn! He’s only being bonded in the next month! Did… did you not get the letter?”Mind racing, Iyrn tried to think of a response that wouldn’t make him out to be a complete fool. He’d gotten the letter, weeks ago in fact. It had been sitting on his end table ever since he received it. Given the timing, he’d been under the assumption that it was simply a reply to his request for library materials and placed it to the side for reading at a later date. Then, of course, he’d moved to Ishgard, gotten in contact with his mother for this meeting, arranged stock, and forgotten completely.Bonded already? Iyrn thought to himself, and then quickly corrected his train of thought. Twenty summers, you dolt. The lad’s only on time for such matters. No need to measure him by your flawed metrics.Suppressing his astonishment as best he could, Iyrn nodded his head emphatically. “Oh the letter! Forgive me, but I’d all but forgotten. Of course, I received it. It was lovely to hear of his bonding to uh… err…”“You didn’t open it did you?”“No.”A second round of laughter erupted from his sister with his frank admission of guilt. Iyrn couldn’t help but widen his smile and join in. Easily forgiven, even for such an error. That was the course such things should follow, especially among family. To understand and grow, leaning on each other for support. It was a pity that such a simple concept didn’t seem to extend to some of his other kin, but knowing that his sister had at least learned that lesson filled him with pride. Again, he marveled at just how lucky he was to have found such a wonderful person to confide in. His father had made many mistakes in his life, but Sthalsyws was most certainly not one of them.“You’re coming to the ceremony,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, chuckles still occasionally escaping the confines of her shaky composure. “It won’t be elaborate, of course. Hardly a bit more than paperwork back home followed by a small gathering. But small or not, it needs you there Iyrn. You’re practically a father to the lad.”“But what to bring? To wear?” Iyrn asked. “I’ve not been back to Sharlayan in decades! For all I know with the current state of affairs I’d seem even more a relic of a bygone age.”“You let me handle that, brother,” his sister replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Your return will be just as grand as you find it awkward, I’m sure. We’ll have to get you caught up on all the new developments, show you the new homestead. Oh! Even show you some of the new facilities in the Studium! It’s changed quite a bit since you were there. And of course, we’ll have to talk about a gift to bring. I have a few ideas, and I’m sure Wyss would…”A clearing of a throat brought Sthalswys’ excitement to a stop. The siblings turned towards the source of the noise and immediately bolted up from their chairs, unsure of what was about to come. At the base of the stairs stood Iyrn’s mother, though much changed. Diminished. Where only a short time before there had been a woman of rigid stone, now there stood a very flawed, very ancient statue. She had never looked so old in all of Iyrn’s memory, the stonemason who sculpted her face having finally, and gleefully, etched every wrinkle and line with all the care of an artist possessed. She even filled the room less. Where before she had towered over Iyrn from below, she now seemed a much more manageable guest. She was no longer the unflappable scholar from Sharlayan with all the use for emotion as a morbol did for mints. For the time being, she was simply an old woman. Simply his mother.Exchanging glances with his sister, Iyrn cleared his own throat in preparation. "Welcome back… mother. How… how did it go?”His mother’s eyes met his gaze, and there was far too much within them for Iyrn to put into words. Grief mixed with anger. Acceptance mixed with refusal. But above all else, her eyes were tired, wearier than any that he had seen in a very, very long time.“He’s not there anymore,” she replied, voice steady but strained. “Berktyrn really is buried. I just didn’t know how deep.”Standing straight as she was able, Iyrn’s mother walked slowly over to the table and began to gather her things. Sthalswys followed suit, this time following the unspoken command to retrieve the bags in earnest. The task took but a moment, and when it was complete, his mother turned back and regarded Iyrn, weariness still clawing at her every feature.“I won’t thank you, Iyrnskylt. Today has not left me with the capacity to do so.” She paused for a moment, chewing on her words. “He’s sleeping now. Up in one of the chairs near the fireplace. I trust you are able to take care of him from this point?”Iyrn nodded. That was where his father often ended his evenings, only waking when he was roused by either getting too warm or nearly falling from his seat. He’d be fine.“You may not have gratitude to spare for me, mother,” he said. “But at least allow me to express mine. Thank you for coming today.”Turning away, his mother walked towards the chapel doors, Sthalswys close behind, the latter only flashing a slight smile to her brother as they made their exit. Upon reaching the door, however, Iyrn’s mother stopped. Without looking behind her, she left a parting remark.“Ms. Berktyrnwyn has informed me that her son is soon to be bonded. I take it you will be in attendance Iyrnskylt?”“Yes ma’am,” Iyrn replied, surprised to hear such a statement coming from his mother.“Very good then.”And with that, she was gone; disappeared into the snowy Ishgardian streets with nothing left behind save for shouting still lingering in the air and baggage that no carriage could cart away. Still, Iyrn smiled as he approached the stairs and began the journey upwards. He barely noticed the creaking floorboards as he ascended, and quietly opened the door to his library. His father was still asleep, snoring in the chair next to the fire; a blanket, dare he say, lovingly draped over the man’s shoulders.Sighing contentedly, Iyrn made his way over to one of the windows facing the street and opened it wide. Snow and wind whipped his face as he stood, watching the carriage fade away into the white fog of the late day. Flakes once again hit his balding head and melted, though the water was barely noticeable this time. He was Iyrnskylt again, and somehow the day didn’t seem quite as cold as before.

An Expedition to Hell's Lid

17th Sun of the Third Astral MoonAetheric Conditions: Predominately wind aspected with minor influence of waterLocation: Othard/Hingashi/KuganeIn collaboration with my associate, Mut Abha, I have arrived in the port city of Kugane in order to secure passage to the Ruby Sea and then to the volcanic area known to locals as “Hell’s Lid.” According to Master Abha, the region has recently been the site of a number of tectonic shifts, resulting in fissures that have brought a number of new mineral deposits to the surface. In addition to the typical koppranickel normally found in the area, it has been rumored that a large quantity of sparkstone has been unearthed, which has seemed to be of particular interest to my companion and his goblin clients. It is my hope that through this expedition, I will be able to develop a working theory as to the past geological history of the region as well as obtain samples to achieve a more practical understanding of Othard’s raw materials and their use within local cultures.Arriving after an uneventful voyage, I found my companion in relatively high spirits. He was eager to begin our expedition and informed me that a family member of his was likely in the area. Through his own investigations, he had discovered that his lost relative was likely a miner in our area of interest. Such news would have been a most fortuitous development had it not also been accompanied by reports that the Kojin of the Red had recently been making moves within the region. It was our fervent hope that we would avoid contact with their aggressions, but we steeled ourselves for possible altercations all the same. After loading our equipment aboard a vessel that Master Abha had prepared for us, we proceeded to cast off from the docks of Kugane and made our way to the Ruby Sea proper.Personal Notes: I’m a poor excuse for a Sea Wolf. I can’t even begin to count how many times I was buckled over the sides of the ship before we’d even really left port from Limsa. Thankfully, the captain was kind enough to let me huddle in the hold for most of the trip, though I’m afraid I owe several of his deck swabs a very fervent apology. Kugane was a welcome sight, I have to say. Even it wasn’t home, it was at least solid land. I suppose it serves me right for spending most of my early days in mountains and forests. Maybe I should have been born a Hellsguard? Bah. That’d just have given me even more problems.Mut seemed his usual self when I met him by the docks. Thankfully a green complexion made it a bit more difficult to tell just how unpleasant the voyage had been. Either that or he was just being polite. For the sake of my own pride, I’ll choose to believe it’s the former. It did surprise me when he expressed some concern over whether his newly found brother would accept him. Maybe I’m just too optimistic, but I don’t see their reunion going poorly. After all, if my messed-up family can reconcile, then what does he have to worry about?The news about the Kojin does concern me though. I’m not a fighter and I made sure that Mut knew that before we embarked on this venture. If there’s any skulls to be cracked, he’ll have to take care of them. Not that I question his abilities of course. Far from it. I’ll just have to make sure there’s a very large rock somewhere nearby to duck behind should the worst come to pass.17th – 18th Sun of the Third Astral MoonAetheric Conditions: Predominately wind aspected with a heavy lean towards fireLocation: Othard/Ruby SeaOur arrival to the Ruby Sea was met with difficulties. Upon disembarking from our conveyance from Kugane, we were met with news that the ferries to our expedition site had all been moored. Master Abha quickly discerned that such a development appeared to be caused by what seemed to be an active raid on a Confederacy outpost nearby. We quickly made passage to the outpost under our own power, and upon reaching the shore took stock of the situation. Master Abha offered to spearhead the defense of the outpost and rushed up the stairs near the cliff face to aid the pirates who were already locked in combat with Kojin of the Red. I was tasked with keeping a lookout for any further reinforcements by Master Abha.After the attackers had been repelled, I set to healing the injured while my companion gathered information. Injuries were minor and little healing needed to be administered to stabilize those who had been affected by the raid. Though not surprising, I was able to gather from the locals that the newly created fissures were prone to spewing toxic fumes and superheated vapor. I informed Master Abha of this, and we both proceeded to don more protective equipment before proceeding on to the expedition site.Personal Notes: Have I ever mentioned that I can’t swim? At least not well at any rate. One would think that after living in seaside settlements for a few decades I’d at least be able to dive correctly. I’m still unsure if Mut knows what he signed on for when he dragged me along. I can only imagine that he’s having second thoughts after I flopped onto the water and nearly drowned myself. Thankfully, he’s as kind a companion as he is a competent fighter.Speaking of fighting though, by the Twelve! The man can move like the wind and hit like a gaja. I don’t think any of those Kojin knew what they were in for when he stormed up those steps. Punches, kicks… other things that I’m sure have names that I don’t know! Sod it, I’m not a poet. I’ll leave it to some bard how best to convey just how amazing it was to see a fellow like him in action.Lookout duty was more my speed, and thankfully Mut realized that, even if it was a bit more dangerous than I’d hoped. No one ever wants to see anything coming on lookout duty, do they? Four unhappy Kojin even less so. I’m sure Mut could have held them off; the man was certainly thrashing the others well enough. But I couldn’t be entirely useless could I? So, I did the only thing I really knew how to do in the situation. I removed the path. I may have been a bit overzealous in my help, but I’m sure the stairs weren’t terribly expensive to make. They’re pirates, right? Wouldn’t they use the good lumber for their ships? Dammit. Might as well anticipate having to build a new staircase on top of replacing that captain’s deck.Thankfully the locals weren’t hurt too badly. A few lacerations and bruises, but they seemed to have acquitted themselves rather well. I patched them up best I could and took a look around while Mut was off looking for information on his sibling. Hell’s Lid is truly an amazing sight, and I can’t wait to start this expedition in earnest.18th Sun of the Third Astral MoonAetheric Conditions: Predominately fire aspected, with a slight lean towards wind. Predominately fire my arse. It’s a damned volcano. There’s nothing there but fire. And earth. But mostly fire!Location: Othard/Ruby Sea/Hell’s LidThe expedition site was immediately worth the journey. Upon landing on the hardened lava flows of the island, it was apparent that a number of raw materials had been brought to the surface. Sparkstone and koppranickel were plentiful, in addition to small amounts of rarer minerals such as feather iron. Local fauna appeared to be heavily fire aspected and consisted of a number of variants of local species such as gasame and anala.Our survey of the area was cut short however, as Master Abha discerned that the miners sent to Hell’s Lid from the nearby outpost were missing. Believing that one of their number was his family member, he proposed that we delve into one of the fissures to perform a rescue mission. Such a change to our expedition required a significant alteration to our gear and equipment. My companion was perfectly capable of protecting himself with only his natural armaments while I had to resort to a codex to provide support. While I was concerned over our safety, the fissure provided ample opportunities to obtain samples we would not otherwise be able to procure.The path we took eventually opened into a large volcanic chamber, the heat reaching incredible levels as we delved deeper. At Master Abha’s insistence, we followed many of the fire sprites in the area to a smaller cavern, where we quickly located the missing miners as well as an extremely large gasame. My companion swiftly engaged the creature and left me to attend to the others.Through magical shielding and healing I was able to reinvigorate the two men, who despite their lack of combat equipment had managed to protect themselves rather well. Master Abha dispatched the gasame and we quickly exited the fissure. Upon reaching the surface, Master Abha departed to speak with the rescued miners, while I continued the survey after having rested from our recent ordeal.Personal Notes: Allow me a moment of shouting (writing?) into the void. Mut, I can appreciate you wanting to find your family member. I really can. I can also appreciate wanting to find new things in the pursuit of knowledge. Though, allow me to say this. The next time we go on a “simple mining expedition,” you had better well not drag me into the heart of an active volcano and get into a fight with a giant flaming crab! Giant. Flaming. Crab! I know I was giddy when we first arrived and forgot about your brother being there, but seriously? Who immediately looks at a volcanic fissure and thinks “Sure, that’s where my sibling went, tally ho!”? Of course, he was down there, and you saved him, so it was all good in the end. I’m happy for you. I am. I’m just far more aware of my age than I was two days ago, and I was already very, very aware of my limitations.In any case, at the end of the day we were able to procure a few samples, one of which being a piece of the gasame’s shell that Mut pulverized. My meager supplies of aether were spent, and thankfully the miners we helped assisted me in leaving that infernal place. I’ll have to look at some of these pieces of ore when I return home to a pleasantly icy Ishgard and log my findings. My theories might hold some water after all. Or lava. Dear gods I’m tired. Think I’ll lay down for just a bit.Post Expedition FindingsPersonal Notes: I’m happy to say that the expedition was a success it seems, on all accounts. Mut has been reunited with his brother, and I’ve been able to create a working theory on events that may have transpired in the distant past of the Ruby Sea. Through analysis of the ore and shell that we recovered from Hell’s Lid, I have come to a conclusion.The koppranickel ore that was unearthed by the recent volcanic activity was a specific blend of copper and nickel that leaned heavily towards the former rather than the latter. This would at first seem to be odd, as copper, known for its high electrical conductivity, is primarily lightning aspected, while nickel is the more heavily fire aspected metal. It would follow then, that nickel would be the more predominant component of an ore found within a volcano then, wouldn’t it?That is where the discovery of the gasame’s shell comes into play. While incredibly infused with fire element, the creature’s shell still contained a remarkable amount of pure copper, something which upon further research, was a metal often found within the bodies of other crustaceans. It appears that much as our bodies utilize iron in their blood, gasame and other similar creatures utilize copper in a similar manner. It is possible then, that the preponderance of copper in the koppranickel of the area could be due to a large population of crustaceans living and dying in the area over a significant period of time.Such a revelation has led me to the aforementioned conclusion. That being that the islands of the Ruby Sea were, for a time, entirely submerged. This would have made them a perfect habitat for crustaceans, which could have eventually become the land dwelling gasame we see today around Hell’s Lid. It is no small possibility that the Sixth Umbral Calamity could have flooded the area much as it did the rest of the star, causing such an ecological change. Now with the waters receded, the copper deposits left behind by those denizens of the ocean have been brought back up the surface, mixed with nickel in the fires of the earth, and made available to the citizenry of Othard as a versatile metal.While these findings are far from conclusive, they have given me certain avenues to pursue for further research. If such information can be gleaned from the Ruby Sea, then what about other areas that were known to be flooded? I may need to pay that old ark in Gyr Abania a visit…

With Lost Gnath

Foreword

If ever there was a time when I was truly, truly happy it was during my time in Emporium. Those years, so far off now, were filled with the vigor and hopefulness that I can only dream of in my older age, the passing of time robbing me of what once brought me so much joy. Of course, so far removed from the past I know full well that I view it with the benefit of nostalgia, painting a much brighter picture than it ever had right to be. The adventures and excitements of my youth were truly little more than work, remembered fondly as grand endeavors by virtue of a young mind greatly embellishing real events. What once was an epic journey to procure a rare herb from the depths of a Dravanian forest, is now seen with wiser eyes as a simple retrieval mission for a spice that would never make its way into a Sharlayan dish. Likewise, the discovery and cataloging of wild beasts did little to change the world other than grace the pages of some tome in a distant library with its likeness. Not to say that my work was meaningless. Again, I enjoyed my time doing such work, but rose-colored memories have faded more and more to gray as the years have marched by.However, I know, dear reader, that you are not here to listen to a washed-up naturalist complain about the loss of his youth. You, I would assume, are here to listen to a washed-up naturalist carry on about memories that are at least somewhat entertaining. While that last part is certainly subjective, I will do my best within this work to impart one of my so-called adventures unto you, so that you may learn from my experiences and go forth into the world better prepared than you were before.To understand this tale, you must first understand the time during which these particular events occurred. The Garlean invasion of Ala Mhigo was still years away, and the preparations for the abandonment of Emporium were still in their infancy. Life within the Dravanian colony was idyllic and serene, a place fit for learning and an excellent location to raise a family and forge a life for oneself. Though gleaners were not an official guild or being worked to the same extent that they are today, tasks were still ever-present, and those within Emporium were constantly sent out into Dravania, Coerthas, and lands beyond to procure ever rarer and valuable plants, minerals, and animals. As this was also before the last calamity, the environment near Ishgard and its surrounding lands was much more hospitable, and there was much less need for warm clothing or survival equipment to brave the elements. The war between Ishgard and the draconic hordes of Nidhogg was still very much in full force however, and dragon attacks were a constant threat for those who dared to travel near the holy peak of Sohm Al.It was into this setting that I set forth on a mission of the utmost importance; one that would certainly have affected the course of Hydaelyn’s history forever. Dare you ask what so vital a task was? I know you’ll gasp in astonishment once you read the incredibly valuable resource I was tasked to collect. My solemn duty was, and brace yourself dear reader, to locate the invaluable dark chestnut. Hard to believe I know, but I was assured by my overseers that determining the reason why the nut of the tree was so difficult to locate on the plant was truly revolutionary information. Jests aside however, the journey took me from my home in Emporium, through the Dravnian hinterlands, and into the forelands. There I encountered the gnath that would accompany me throughout this story as I attempted to reunite him with his hive.The gnath, as I hope you are aware, are a tribe that finds themselves located in the Smoldering Wastes of the Dravanian Forelands. It is there that that their people exist in a state of complete unification, their minds directly linked to each other through a collective consciousness known as the “Onemind.” To be separated from the collective is tantamount to death for most gnath, as they rely upon their strength in numbers and ability to coordinate to stave off threats such as dragons and any races of man foolish enough to encroach upon their territory. Their culture is one that is rarely studied due to their belligerence and xenophobia, and as such, I count myself singularly lucky that I was able to have such a rare interaction with one of their race.Enough of this opening act though. You’ve come here to read a gripping tale of a roegadyn and overgrown termite parading through the wilderness in search of a particularly elusive seed. I certainly hope you enjoy, and at the very least find it a pleasant read on a cold night in front of a warm fire.

The First Day – Setting Off

My journey began much as many of my days do now, with a copious amount of reading. As it is even today, immersing myself in a book helped to ease the mind and prepare myself for upcoming trials. With the target of my current search being located a good week’s journey away, I certainly needed a great deal of text to assist in the preparation. Surrounded by maps, charts, and first-hand accounts of the Dravanian forelands, I plotted my course to allow for both swift travel and minimal interference from dangerous wildlife. Though the area surrounding Emporium was largely safe from attack, the further one got from the vaunted stone walls of the colony, the more likely it was that a poor scholar or explorer was to be met with aggression and possible injury.The dragons of the region were by far the most dangerous threat that one could encounter, and thanks to Sharlayan’s rather inconvenient stance on non-intervention in the Ishgardian war with their neighbors, there was precious little information available on how to combat such creatures. There were of course the usual incantations and magical techniques used to avoid detection, but as unskilled as I was with mystic arts, such methods were nigh useless. A botanist’s hatchet or miner’s pick were ill-suited weapons to pierce a dragon’s scales, and I knew full-well that even attempting to combat such a beast was folly in the extreme. For hours I sat and pondered my predicament, occasionally sparing a moment to think of the other incredibly dangerous creatures that could hinder my mission.Thankfully, as is still the case in my life, there was a voice of reason to tell me to pull my head out of my prodigious rear and make ready to leave. The font of wisdom in this case was Moumont, a veteran explorer of many years and the closest thing I had to a direct superior within Emporium. To any observer, the man would have been something of an odd sight. While the stereotype of elezen is generally that they are elegant, refined, and wise, this man failed on two of those three accounts. Resembling several gnarled branches that were shorn off a dead tree and tied together in a roughly man-shaped bundle, he was ever a font of sound advice; practical advice mind you, a commodity often found lacking amongst leadership of Sharlayan origin.The man would hardly have ever tried to use his experience as leverage to force an underling to action, but within the walls of the Asulon it was unthinkable. While certain professors and ambitious students scoffed at the idea that outside influence held no sway within the building, Moumont was, if nothing else, a creature of propriety, albeit one that garnished his manners with copious amounts of swearing and blasphemy. He’d been a friend long enough that I had largely dismissed such quirks in his personality as anything offensive. The fact that the man had known my father for years prior to my arrival within the colony helped matters, as in Berktyrn’s absence he did his best to raise me up to the quality of individual I had become. Not to say that his tutelage was kind though. In reality it was far from it. For all I chafed underneath my professors at the Studium, Moumont was a harsher taskmaster than any other I’d experienced. His goal had ever been to ensure that his underlings’ duties were done, and he made sure that those under his watch were shaped into the finest explorers and naturalists. Jobs were there to be completed, and any that went unfinished were a black mark against both himself and his profession as a whole. Needless to say, he was less than pleased to find me fretting over such a simple task as procuring a chestnut.Though he never outright ordered me to get moving, Moumont had a distinct way of making sure he was heard and obeyed. While I am still unsure what sorcery the man used to achieve the effect, he always seemed to tower above me, despite being nearly a foot shorter. What started with a simple string of questions as to how my preparations were faring ended with me outside the doors of the Asulon as the knotted old man seemed to progressively take up more and more of the building. Such a reality was surely only in my head, but before I knew it, I was breathing in the cool air of the Dravanian mountains with a handful of tomes and a very confused chocobo, watching a whistling elezen slam the entrance shut behind me. My research quite obviously completed whether I wanted it to be or not, I grabbed the bird’s reins and began the walk back to the Collector’s Quarter to retrieve the rest of my equipment.If you’ll allow me a moment to digress, I must indulge my nostalgia and marvel at the sights that greeted me as I strode through my home. Emporium was truly a beautiful place, nestled amongst the mountains of verdant green with a ceiling of the bluest sky. Interspersed amongst the foliage were buildings of white stone; clouds brought forth by men to grace the earth with their shining walls and expertly shaped domes. Walking through this heaven were people of all the races of man, united in a purpose to understand their world and seek knowledge for the pure joy of its acquisition. As I passed Saint Mocianne’s Arboretum and into the heart of the Answering Quarter, I was greeted with the idyllic life of the student populace. Interspersed among the houses of learning were couples and small groups enjoying what blessed leisure time they had. They sat amongst the grass with small lunches or lounging on benches, their piles of textbooks and unfinished thesis papers forgotten for a brief moment. I often wonder what my life may have looked like had I continued my education. Would I too have been content with sitting on a blanket between classes enjoying a sandwich with friends; the threat of examinations and projects looming over my head? Who can say? But as I led Burt through the paved streets of the town-sized campus, my hands guiding the bird along as his clawed feet scraped the cobblestones, I couldn’t help considering the possibilities.Lost in thought as I was, it was no surprise that I found myself at my destination before I knew it. Vaulted lecture halls and laboratories gave way to significantly smaller, though no less impressive homes, warehouses, and shops. Serene silence became a chaotic murmur and then a roar as I entered into the Collector’s Quarter proper. Merchants rather than students lined the streets, their customers clamoring to find exactly what new wares had been brought forth from the corners of Eorzea and beyond. The cool air grew warm from the throng of people gathered, and the heat of workers and beasts of burden quickly brought the temperature to an unpleasant lukewarm affair. In comparison to the order and quiet of the Answering Quarter, it felt dirty, loud, and above all, real. It was home.Weaving my way through the crowds of reaching hands and haggling tongues, I arrived at my modest quarters. Little more than a small room built into the side of a warehouse, it nevertheless offered me what I needed; a roof and a soft bed. Well, to be entirely honest, it did offer one other creature comfort, as while tying up Burt, the true beauty of my abode ran up to me giggling and pushing past each other. It had been my supreme joy to find a place to live that allowed me to be close to family, and it never failed that my niece and nephew came to greet their uncle whenever he found himself home for a time. Still barely able to speak coherently, the two toddlers rushed my unsuspecting shins and hugged tightly, my sister and her husband watching in the distance. It had become something of a ritual for them at this point. Their uncle appeared and it was their duty to come and greet him. The fact that his imminently embraceable legs often gave them some treasure from his journeys was quite obviously unrelated.On this occasion I had little that was truly remarkable for them to add to their collections, just a few small pebbles flecked with small deposits of copper and tin. To their small minds however, I might as well have given them a lost treasure from a bygone age. Their laughs of joy came quickly and I ruffled their golden hair as they stared up with their violet eyes in sheer delight. Mission accomplished and prizes secured, they stumbled back over to their parents, happily showing their newly acquired gifts. Watching the four together still brings a smile to my face even now, though not without feeling the hurt that would come less than a year later, as their father was removed from that beautiful picture.Nodding to my sister and brother-in-law, I excused myself and entered my home, now able to continue my preparations without fear of inquisitive hands and heads being underfoot. With such a long journey ahead of me, I needed to make sure that I was well provisioned, and against my own preferences, I wrapped several archon loaves for the trip. It was my sincere hope that I would be able to forage and provide for myself along the way, though it never hurt to have a backup supply of food, horrendous though it might be. Chocobo feed, gathering tools, a tent, cooking supplies; all other manner of items quickly found their way into Burt’s saddlebags. The bird protested at first at the weight of the load, but such was his way of things. We’d been together long enough that we knew each other’s mannerisms and it never failed that despite the weight of the load, Burt would always pull through and dutifully transport whatever was needed. It didn’t hurt that I loaded my own pack full to bursting with supplies, my back just as loaded down as my companion’s.By the time I had finished, it was well past midday, and the sun was already quickly retreating behind the peaks of the mountains. With a glance at Burt and a quick pat of his feathers, I grabbed his reins and began the walk away from the Collector’s Quarter. Rather than taking the direct route out of the hinterlands, I instead opted for a bit more peaceful route. While the Maker’s Quarter would have been a more direct path to my objective, I found the atmosphere of the area rather unagreeable. The noise of creation hardly bothered me, as it was less intrusive than the constant sounds near my own home, but there was something about the hum of aetheryte that I always found a bit unsettling. Now, lest you get the wrong idea, I’m not one of those people who distrust aetheryte travel and nervously cling to old methods of transportation; far from it in fact. Compared to the pleasant chirping of insects and the sound of rushing wind that could be heard if one were to avoid the quarter entirely, however, the cacophony of industry was simply a din that was far less preferable.It was nightfall by the time I cleared the borders of the colony and rose high enough into the mountain passes of Dravania that I could turn and see where I’d come from. Scattered below me was home, the first place I’d ever really felt like I’d belonged, and the last place for many, many more years. I can still see it now, marble blocks stacked expertly together like the work of some extremely precocious child, set in such a way that the blanket of stars above shone down in just the right way to hide any imperfections in the design. Such was the way of Sharlayan, to hide away that which was unpleasant and behave as if perfection came as easily as the day turned to night. Still, at that time, I couldn’t help but marvel at the place’s beauty, and as I walked for several more hours and eventually set up camp, I fell asleep with a beautiful vision in my head. Of white halls, green grass, and laughing, golden hair still soft underneath my hands.

The Second Day – Rain

If there is anyone ever foolish enough to tell you that weather is harmless dear reader, kindly kick them in their groin and inform them just how much of an idiot they are. Despite the beautiful conditions of my departure from Emporium, the Dravanian mountains quickly turned upon me and made sure that I was aware I was in an unforgiving wilderness. I awoke the next morning from splendid dreams to find my tent soaked nearly through, and poor Burt a bedraggled mess. So torrential had been the downpour that even the evergreen trees we’d camped near had done little to protect us from the elements. With a heavy heart and an even heavier load, sopping wet as it was, I broke camp and proceeded forward, pulling my cloak tighter against the cold and rain.Mud sucked at our feet as we continued our journey, each step a victory that was immediately made less than pleasant by the earth renewing its quest to claim a boot or talon. The countryside was successful on that last account on more than one occasion, and the moment my bare foot came in contact with cold mud led to the first of many curse-filled rants that day. Whether because of my exclamations or the fierceness of the storm, the trek was a rather lonesome one, with Burt not even offering his usual chirps of annoyance, instead quietly seething as his feathers hung heavily on his frame, rivulets of water pouring off of his natural coat. At times I envied the chocobo, looking over to see how relentlessly he marched on, feet freeing themselves almost effortlessly as he marched. It only took one sidelong glance from my steed however to tell me just how unhappy he was. Though difficult to describe, the bird was extremely good at conveying his emotions without speech, and his eyes filled with tiredness and apathy were the only clue I needed to understand his distaste for the situation.The sound of rain all around us furthered the feeling of isolation, as pounding drops of water soon became the only thing either of us could hear. No buzzing insects or chirps from songbirds split the air, and why would they? The beasts of the hinterlands were intelligent. They hid away in some nice warm burrow or hollow tree, waiting for the storm to pass with their young and kin. Unlike a Sharlayan bred explorer, they at least had some semblance of sanity and wisdom. Thankfully, I did find myself joined by an equally idiotic creature around midday, as a dung beetle attempted to roll its prize through the mud towards a burrow on the other side of the path. Despite myself and Burt’s protests, I stood there in the rain for some time watching the poor little creature struggle. It would approach its rapidly deteriorating little ball from multiple angles, trying to extract it from the mud, only to be met with failure each and every time. Though not to be discouraged, it simply repeated the process over and over again, the treasure it had so painstakingly collected growing smaller and smaller as the rain chipped away at it.I could only marvel at the little insect’s perseverance, and eventually took it upon myself to help. Walking to a nearby tree I cut loose a branch and brought it back to the path. With the beetle still valiantly trying to push its load and oblivious to my presence, I dragged my newly acquired tool through the mud to create a trench. No sooner had I done so than the creature sped through the newly made path, only to be quickly overtaken by water flooding the channel. Civil engineering had never been one of my strong suits. Still, as the intended roadway filled with rain, the beetle nevertheless found its way to the other side of the path, riding a raft of dung until it made landfall. Pleased with the outcome if not the method, I allowed myself a brief smile, which was immediately removed as the daft fellow turned on a dime and proceeded to push himself and his now miniscule load back into the muddy path. Sighing, I grabbed Burt’s reins and moved on. There was certainly some lesson to learn from what I had just witnessed, but with cold creeping into my bones and confusion suffusing my mind I hardly had the capacity to entertain any such philosophical quandary.Midday gave way to the afternoon, which inevitably led to evening with the rain never relenting. Oiled cloaks and dense feathers could only handle so much inclement weather, and as the sun began to set behind us, I was keenly aware of the need to find a dry place to make camp. Small hollows were plentiful in the area, but with such a day behind us, all but the largest were sure to have become nothing but inland tidepools. As such, I set myself the task of locating a cavern large enough for the two of us, but hopefully not so deep as to be the home for something worse than the rain. The area, while not the most dangerous, was still the home of several large predators; ones that would be more than eager to make a meal out of a chocobo and a roegadyn armed only with a hatchet and pick. Several possible shelters had to be abandoned after a cursory inspection, with large footprints present on the bits of still dry earth or the telltale stench of a recent meal disqualifying them for our use.Darkness inevitably came, and the weather made lighting a lantern a rather difficult affair. Even when I managed to produce a steady light, it did little to pierce the gloom, its luminescence immediately lost by a thousand reflecting drops of water. Still, it was the best I had, and as Burt and I made our way into the night, we lucked upon our salvation. Near a river crossing, about ten fulms above the water sat a small recess into the cliff. With no small amount of effort, I hoisted myself up the rocky path to its mouth and peered inside. The depression was just large enough for man and chocobo to fit, and shallow enough that I could easily tell that there were no other occupants. Descending again, I removed the gear from Burt’s back and carried it to our home for the evening, allowing the bird to scamper up after he had been freed of his burdens. I followed shortly after, and proceeded to make our tiny, if not very welcome camp.With the weather having been as unwelcoming as it was, I had found very few opportunities to forage during the day. Checking my provisions, I was rather displeased to find that the only food that remained dry was the loathsome archon loaf. Only fitting that such a disgusting meal would be tenacious enough to survive so trying a day.Nevertheless, I ate and was sated that night, though some small amount may have found its way up from my throat and onto the stone outside. Burt, for his part, was perfectly content with a rather soggy ghysahl green, and I could almost feel the bird’s smugness as he munched happily on his dinner. Fed and with a small fire started, we began to dry and prepare for sleep.As I lay on the stone floor, my damp bedroll still too moist to provide a pleasant night, I took in the surroundings of the small cavern. The structure of the chamber was rather uninteresting, and the stone itself was the same common limestone often found near running bodies of water. A few small flecks of copper and micah shown in the firelight, but it wasn’t until I stared into the back of the cave at a whim, my lantern in hand, that I discovered the true treasure nearby. At the rear of the cavern, an exposed patch of reddish-yellow mineral stood prominently, bits of it seemingly chipped away. Intrigued, I crept closer, eliciting a rather unhappy kweh from my companion as I bumped into him. A more intimate inspection gave me all the information I needed, with the smell being the defining attribute which revealed the identity of the mysterious mineral. The scent of sulfur was overpowering so close, and I immediately recognized it as a compound most commonly used in the manufacture of explosives.Its presence troubled me for a moment, but after a few reminders to myself of where I was, such a compound was hardly a rare find. The local beast tribe, the Gnath, had a long history of using such minerals in the compounding of firesand for their muskets. Such a revelation though was immediately followed by a new fear. The deposit had been harvested, at least to some extent, and there had been no sign of other explorers throughout the previous day. While gnath had not been noted to range so far to the West, it nevertheless put me on edge for the rest of the night. Dousing the fire, I fell to sleep restlessly, one eye opened for any sign of danger.

The Third Day – Gnath

Roaring woke me from my fitful sleep the next morning. Frozen by the sound, I looked around the cavern best I could without moving. I appeared to be in one piece, no injuries to speak of. Burt seemed to be uninjured as well, the chocobo trusting its own survival instincts and remaining perfectly still, the only sign of his fear being a rather prominent ruffling of his plumage. The roar came again, followed by a loud crack. My ears strained to determine the source. A wood snap would have been sharper, and if the beast outside could crush stone, then my life would have surely been forfeit. The same sounds again, and my mind finally placed the sound. Not a bone breaking, though something similar. My mind immediately raced back to the little dung beetle in the rain, and the sickening squish of an insect under one’s heel. Whatever was outside was extraordinarily angry, and the subject of its ire seemed to be an exceptionally large vilekin. While I had my suspicions as to what the two sides of the assault were, I knew better than to make myself known without proper preparation. Turning back to the rear of the cave, the mineral deposit offered an opportunity. While not dangerous per say in its current form, when heated to a significant degree, it should still produce a rather loud sound as it combusted. I simply needed to find a way to detonate such an impromptu tool in a place other than my own hand.For once, a soggy bedroll proved to be useful. After chipping a healthy bit of the soft and pungent material off the cave wall, I wrapped it in a torn section of my still damp bedding and dipped it in a small amount of lantern oil. My weapon prepared, I inched towards the exit of the cave and stole a glance outside. At the water’s edge stood a bandersnatch, the predator’s massive teeth poised over the unmoving body of a much smaller creature. The latter being half submerged in the water made it difficult to see, and I couldn’t risk the predator discovering my location. With a brief strike of flint, I lit the oil-soaked parcel and aimed carefully. Thankfully my aim was better than my luck had been so far on the journey, and my makeshift distraction landed just behind the beast, cushioned by a soft patch of earth. I breathed a sigh of relief as it missed the nearby grass and then held my breath as the fire ate through the oil and into the damp cloth. Tense seconds passed by as the bandersnatch remained none the wiser until finally the explosive compound did its work. A thundering bang erupted from behind the creature, sending it jumping over the river and into the woods like an oversized couerl kitten.I continued to hide silently for several minutes afterwards, not willing to expose myself should the beast return to its prey. When my lungs burned from holding my breath and my legs began to cramp, I finally emerged from the cavern and made my way towards the hapless creature at the riverbank. What met my eyes was hardly surprising, but I found myself amazed all the same. There lay a gnath, its carapace cracked in multiple places after having fallen victim to the bandersnatch’s mighty jaws. Closer inspection revealed little more of interest. The creature had very little in the way of equipment or weaponry, with even its scarf having been ripped to shreds in the assault. It remained motionless, and for some time I assumed that the creature was dead. As such, it was a great surprise when it began to move its mandibles, and I started at the odd clicking noise that it issued forth. I’m quite ashamed that I very nearly lost my balance and fell in the river at the shock, but thankfully my feet remained steady enough to avoid having two injured explorers lying side by side.My disbelief at the creature’s vitality lasted but a moment, and I quickly found myself with a dilemma. I could, of course, leave the creature where it lay. The bandersnatch had grievously injured the gnath to the point where it would very likely perish due to natural causes if no intervention was made. I was no stranger to the aggressive nature of the beast tribe, and I had little reason to assume that the creature would behave kindly towards me if were offered aid. On the other hand, this provided a rather unique opportunity. Finding a gnath away from the hive was an oddity, so rare as to be unheard of, and while a group of gnath was formidable, a single individual was little threat, especially deprived of its weapon and injured as it was. Perhaps, I thought, I might be able to learn from this specimen; that I might be able to communicate with it and learn of its people. As averse as my countrymen were to conflict, many had outright written off the gnath as savage beings not worthy of study or interaction. This had led to a rather unacceptable gap in our knowledge of the tribe, and I, against some of my better judgment, decided that I would be the one to remedy that ignorance.Surveying the creature’s wounds, I was left with a rather interesting conundrum. As it had a chitinous carapace as opposed to the more contemporary anatomy of the races of man, the triage I had been trained in was of remarkably little use. A splint wouldn’t keep the gnath’s innards from leaking out and there was no way that I could stitch the plates of its exoskeleton together. After pondering the question for quite some time, I was struck by inspiration. Thinking of the creature in terms of commonly taught medicine was useless. Instead, I needed to treat it as if it was an object; armor that required mending. Patching was the correct course of action and I dredged into the river for clean clay that I might use as the base for a makeshift cement.The water of the river was bitingly cold, and I felt my fingers go numb shortly after they were plunged beneath its icy surface. Fumbling with what little dexterity I could muster, I moved rocks and vegetation out of the way and scratched with unfeeling fingers at the bed. Though the process seemed to take ages, I eventually reached my goal; a thick clay-infused mud that would pack nicely into the cracks of the gnath’s natural armor. Once I had deposited several handfuls on the bank, I warmed my hands in my coat, happy to feel the life returning to my fingers. I could scarcely enjoy the sensation however, as I was met with yet another issue. The clay would serve to patch the wounds well enough, but I needed do something about the infection that was no doubt already starting to set in. I had brought alcohol for just such an occasion, but I doubted the safety of applying alcohol alone directly to such wounds, several of which were strewn across the gnath’s head. While the idea of the creature thanking me in a drunken stupor did bring a smile to my face, the notion was quickly dismissed. I needed to find something else to use quickly, lest the mud I procured dry before it ever had a chance to serve its purpose.Thinking back to my training by Moumont, the yarrow flower was brought to mind, and I ventured off to the nearby trees and thickets to locate the plant. Keeping watch for the tell-tale white blossoms of my quarry, I carefully picked my way forward, scanning the ground for any signs of the bandersnatch that had taken off in the same direction. The fact that the ground was covered with the large tracks of the beast was more than a little disconcerting, but I nevertheless pressed forward, ready to whistle for Burt to run to my rescue should the need arise. Thankfully, I didn’t have to walk far to locate a number of yarrow stalks, and I swiftly plucked them free and headed back to my patient. Burt had extracted himself from the cave in the meantime and taken to sitting next to the gnath, occasionally pecking at the creature out of curiosity. I waved him away, the bird giving me a rather perturbed look as I did so, and set to preparing my poultice.Using two flat rocks from the river, I ground the yarrow as best I could and retrieved a bottle of spirits from my saddle bag. Somewhat reluctantly, I poured half the bottle out and tainted the rest with my crudely ground herbs. With time against me, I could hardly wait for the ingredients to properly mix, and it was with no small amount of disappointment that I carefully poured my makeshift tincture into the clay, kneading it as best I could. Pouring a bit more of the liquid over the gnath’s wounds, I then proceeded to apply the clay, much as a mason would patch a wall. The creature winced slightly as I performed my work, its body shuddering with the pain, but I could hardly stop halfway through. When the work was finished, its carapace was covered with blotches of mending clay, and I was utterly spent.Less than an hour after waking and my strength gone, I contemplated making camp for another night, but the memory of the gnath’s assailant dispelled that notion near instantaneously. Carefully lifting the creature, I placed it atop Burt, choosing to ignore the chocobo’s protests, and fastened it into the saddle while wrapped in a protective and restraining blanket. With a sigh of relief and utter exahaustion, I grabbed the bird’s reins and headed off, intent to make up for time lost to both the morning’s events and the increased load of my newly acquired companion.

The Fourth Day – Fryn

Travel was slow thanks to our passenger, but we made good time away from the riverbank and further into the mountains of Dravania. Other than sporadic clicks from the gnath, it was mercifully silent. Even out of the bandersnatch’s immediate territory, I feared the injured creature would attract all manner of other predators with its wounded utterances. It was with no small amount of relief that I found a secluded outcrop of rock for camp that night, and it was with even greater relief that I quickly drifted off to a restful sleep, free from the horrific rain that had plagued the previous day.With the morning came renewed vigor, and not only for myself and Burt. As I put together a meager breakfast of field rations, I chanced to notice that I was being watched. The gnath, though still barely moving, was fixated on me, the broad shell of its head moving slowly to follow my every movement. Hesitant though I am to admit it, I froze when I first noticed, fearful of what might follow despite being over twice the creature’s size. Nevertheless, once the initial shock had worn off, I carefully approached the creature to try and acquaint myself with it. Injured though it was, it tried valiantly to inch away as I drew closer, but the wounds from the previous day proved too much of a hindrance for it to make an escape. As such, soon I found myself face to face with the gnath, each of us regarding the other with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.Silence followed. I had no idea how the gnath spoke, with the only records I had of the beast tribe indicating that they communicated telepathically, being linked to each other through some form of collective consciousness. To that end, I had no idea if they even had a language or if they were even capable of speech with other spoken races. Despite that, I tried best I could. Speaking slowly and deliberately, I motioned to myself and gave my name. “Iyrnskylt.” No response. I attempted the same with a number of other objects. My bedroll, food, and equipment all failed to illicit a response. I recall sitting there for many minutes afterwards, wracking my brain as to how I might be able to communicate even the simplest ideas with the injured creature. Eventually I continued on the same course, meeting failure after failure until I pointed at Burt. “Chocobo,” I said, pointing at the bird as I did so. To my surprise, the gnath began clicking at the word, raising a weak claw to motion at my mount as it did so. Surprised by my sudden success, I could only stare for a moment before I made a realization. Chocobo were native to the Dravanian forests, and it was only natural that a gnath would recognize such a creature and have its own word for it. I repeated the process and the gnath once again chimed in with its own language. Progress at last.Preparations for travel proceeded relatively quickly, even despite some half-hearted protests from the injured beast tribesman. Even with its small claws flailing at me as I fastened it to Burt’s saddle, it seemed to accept its fate before long and ceased its struggling. It was difficult to tell exactly how the creature felt about the situation, the unexpressive plates of its face offering little in the way of smiles or frowns. Certainly, it had to have some way of showing its joy or displeasure, but I was baffled as to how. Pheromones perhaps? I didn’t relish the idea of taking a long sniff of my companion to discover its mood, and even that notion seemed an unlikely prospect for it to convey its thoughts. As unhappy as I was to admit it, the gnath likely had little need to display any emotion, as amongst its own kind such notions were largely useless. Why have a need to showcase individual thoughts if one was merely a part of the whole after all? Still, the need for some form of human connection persisted as we traveled, and I did my best to try and illicit some form of comradery from the creature.The countryside provided me plenty of topics for conversation with the gnath, and while I was largely met with silence, I was quite pleased when my chattering provoked a response. I would point out individual rock formations, trees, and fauna and pronounce the name of such objects in the common tongue, smiling wide to try and show my friendliness. In hindsight, baring my teeth so brazenly may have been a poor choice given the creature’s close encounter with a sharp-toothed predator, but in my defense, it is rather hard to know how to break the ice with an exceptionally large roach. The gnath would chatter at some of the subjects I pointed out and I made a mental note of those it recognized. It really was quite remarkable at how much of the flora and fauna the creature recognized, with several different species of trees and insect prompting distinct series of clicks and chitters. Such a wealth of knowledge paled however in regards to its ability to identify individual minerals and herbs. Pointing out strata of rock often prompted full minutes worth of excited chattering and small bits of moss caused it to expound upon its properties in incomprehensible clacks and chirrups. It was obvious that the gnath were far more intelligent than my countrymen gave them credit for; a fact that would become all the more obvious in the coming days.As midday approached, we stopped for a short reprieve, and it was at that point that my companion made its displeasure known. Straining at its bindings, it began to startle Burt, and the bird very nearly bucked the creature off its back. I intervened, and after a series of calming motions both chocobo and gnath relaxed, and I somewhat reluctantly undid the straps holding the creature in place. As soon as its bonds were loosed, the gnath nearly jumped from the saddle, and landed on the ground with a rather sickening crack. Worried, I looked at its legs and was relieved to see no immediate damage to its carapace. With a few tentative steps, it then began to walk, clattering along the path at a slow pace. For a moment, I questioned whether or not the creature meant to carry on by itself. It had certainly healed quickly, but from the laborious pace and small strides it was obvious that the creature was still requiring a certain degree of convalescence. Still, it carried on, and with Burt’s reins in my hand, I followed.The pace even slower than it had been before, I had long since abandoned any thoughts of quickly completing my given mission as I followed the gnath on its course. I was relieved at the very least that it did seem to be headed in my preferred direction, but I couldn’t repress my curiosity as I wandered after it through the forests of the Dravanian highlands. Along its meandering path, it picked up several objects, each of which I made a mental note of. A long hollow reed, scrapings of sulfurous compounds akin to those in the cave I had sheltered in, and a number of other minerals. Of particular interest were several pungent herbs that it gnawed upon with its mandibles before determining whether they were worth taking or not. Those it deemed unacceptable it dropped back on the forest floor, while others it ingested, and, after a few moments, wretched back up into its clawed hands. I was rather disgusted when it brought the vomit back to me, but it seemed adamant that I receive such a gift. Reluctanty I accepted the green mush and placed it in a sample jar. Oddly, when I attempted to seal the container, the gnath became rather agitated, and it was only after I left the rancid compound uncovered that it relented in its protests. Such interactions continued throughout the day, and after a long day that led to a remarkably small amount of progress in reaching my destination, we finally made camp and another revelation was made.As we sat around the fire, I made notes of the days events while watching the antics of my companion. It had laid out all of its treasures that it had procured throughout the day before it, and I absently made small doodles of what it produced with them over the early hours of the evening. Branches and stones were quickly bound together to form small javelins, and the now dried vomit was wrapped in leaves to form small packets. Of greater interest, however, was the ingenious way in which it seemed to fashion a replacement for the muskets that were almost synonymous with its race. Utilizing a rather sturdy branch with a bored-out center, it began to work clay and mud mixed with its own bodily secretions into the barrel of a makeshift firearm. More leaf packets filled with sulfur and flammable material followed, and before long the creature had a serviceable, if not particularly lethal weapon, or so I thought. When its craftsmanship had been completed, it produced a number of small, smooth stones from the events of the day and poured them into the branch. It then turned and left the campsite, heading off into the darkness.An explosive sound rang out shortly afterwards, and I jumped in surprise my pen trailing a line across my journal and ruining an amateur sketch of the gnath’s creation. As I set to clean the page as best I could, the gnath returned, carrying a rabbit peppered with holes. The creature’s weapon was obviously more devastating than I had initially surmised. It dropped the slain beast at my feet and took up its position near the fire, continuing to manufacture weaponry and who knew what else with the day’s harvest.A rather hearty rabbit stew followed, and as I settled into sleep, I began to question what to call the gnath. I had mulled over the question throughout the last day, and now that it was relatively healthy, I felt the need in earnest. After some thought I came to a conclusion, and approached my companion with the intent to at least impart one more bit of knowledge to the creature. Taking a stick from the fire, I scratched a word into the dirt. F-R-Y-N, “friend” in the old roegadyn tongue. I pointed at the gnath, then back at the word and waited for a response. It regarded me silently for several minutes before it reached towards my own stick with its grasping claws. I relinquished my writing implement and waited. It quickly copied my writing with near clinical precision, and pointed back to itself. I could barely contain my excitement, even though I had little way of knowing if the gnath had understood my meaning in the slightest. As I settled into my bedraggled bedroll, I smiled beside myself. “Fryn it is then.” The gnath clacked and chittered in what I hoped was an accepting way, and I let my eyes close.

The Fifth Day – Dragon

The next morning brought clear skies, a warm sun, and the continued pleasant company of my newfound companion. Though it had little to offer in the way of conversation, the knowledge that Fryn had seemed to accept its name brightened my mood considerably. As we continued on our way, an exchange of information occurred, or as close to one as could be expected. I would point out individual plants and animals and try my best to impart my own naming conventions to my companion. To Fryn’s credit, it did the best it could to try and reproduced my speech, though its mandibles made the attempt impossible at worst and unintelligible at best. For all its efforts it could barely manage single syllables akin to some of the exotic birds I remembered from my youth in Sharlayan. Text seemed to appeal to Fryn’s sensibilities much better, as when I wrote in the common tongue to describe a picture or object it proved to be surprisingly dexterous in its reproduction of my writing. Such a revelation shouldn’t have been shocking, but it was still something I had never thought to attribute to such a people I had always been taught were primitive. The gnath had, after all, created a firearm from little more than twigs and clay, so the industriousness of its people was definitely not to be underestimated.Needless to say, outside of the interactions with my traveling companion, the day had been absolutely horrible. Now that might come across as odd to some, as what more could one ask for outside of a cloudless sky and warm sun? Plenty I’m afraid, as such splendid weather was the problem. A clear sky in Dravania meant one thing, and unfortunately that thing was often accompanied by beating wings and flaming breath. With the holy peak of Sohm Al in the distance, its mighty crystalline peak stretching into the heavens, the chance for dragon encounters increased with every new step. Such a dilemma was compounded by the significant lack of cover nearby. Though there were caves aplenty in the higher peaks of Abalathia’s Spine, such refuges did little to shield us from detection as we walked through the narrow passes that led towards the Dravanian forelands. At least there we would have access to foliage to mask our presence, with large trees, most notably the mighty caelum, able to block a clear line of sight between ground and sky, but here in the peaks, above the treeline, there was no such protection. Combined with the rather jealous looks I continued to get from Burt as I bonded with my new companion, I was having an altogether bad day interspersed with small bits of levity.As our journey continued, I remained vigilant for any sign of movement in the sky above, and as day became early evening, my overstressed senses started jumping at shadows. Every passing eagle was a swooping wyvern, and every skittering lizard a brobinyak hunting its prey. Though I was well trained to survive in harsh environments, I had never been a specialist in combat. Martial pursuits were frowned upon in the motherland, and even studying such arts for purely academic purposes was somewhat taboo. There were sages and skilled practitioners of all forms of magic of course, but such fields were primarily focused on determining how they could benefit civilian fields rather than raining destruction down upon one’s foes. Sharlayan was ever practical with its magic save for uses which would be practical from moment to moment.My companion however, seemed to rather unconcerned about the whole affair. Fryn marched on resolutely, its wounds having all but healed over the last two nights. The creature’s resilience was extraordinary to say the least, and it was with no small amount of envy that I watched the gnath shrug off injuries that would have left me bedridden for days if not weeks. If Fryn was worried, it showed absolutely no sign, though given the rather rigid nature of its facial expression, that may have been my own failure to read the gnath’s emotions. Given how they normally communicated, it was likely that they had little reason to show any outward sign of fear, anger, or happiness. Instead, I took its continued brisk pace, the click-clack of its legs on the hard earth a sign that everything was going well and that I should afford myself some measure of relaxation. Granted, the fact that my diminutive companion was carrying what amounted to a small makeshift blunderbuss and a number of packets of herbs that it seemed to guard closely did help to ally some of my fears. If trouble occurred, I would be leaning on the gnath’s rather impressive firepower as I tried my best to make due with little more than hatchet and pick.It was only as the sun began to dip below the peaks that I breathed a sigh of relief and then immediately held my breath as Fryn came to a halt and issued forth a rather terse series of clicks. Stealing a glance to the sky, I froze as a massive shape blotted out the daylight above us. There had been times in the past where I’d certainly disliked just how large I was, for silly reasons such as needing to fit through a door, or trying to shake a lalafell’s hand, but now I wished to be smaller for entirely more primal reasons. I could feel myself shrinking in on myself, desperately trying to match the stature of my chitinous companion. Seconds turned into minutes as the shape circled in the sky above, and mintues turned into eternity. Eventually, however, the shadow vanished and the threat passed. Or so we thought.A screech sounded behind us from Burt, and we turned to see the face of our would-be doom. Covered with hardened scales and legs brimming with powerful muscle, a lesser dragon stood near my precious chocobo, each step it took seeming to shake the very ground. If I had been frozen before under the shadow above, I was now utterly paralyzed with fear. How such a large beast had snuck up on us I had no idea, but my brain was hardly in the appropriate place to pose such questions. Myself, my mount, and my companion were all in terrible danger, and I could think of very little I could do to fend off the beast.My hatchet may as well have been a butter knife against the natural armor of a terrestrial dragon and I could hardly complete my own journey if I fled and left my bird to its fate. Mind racing, I tried to think of any plan I could, each option I weighed seeming to be worse than the last, and with each passing moment, Burt became increasingly agitated. Soon he would bolt, and whether I wanted to or not I would both lose my mount and likely my own life as the dragon turned to slower prey. Gritting my teeth, I began to raise my hatchet and muster the breath to let out a distracting cry. Such a plan was likely suicidal, but in my defense, it is not every day that a simple explorer comes face to face with so devastating a foe. I was no storied dragoon of Ishgard, no explosive mage from the lost city of Mhach. I was simply a foolish roegadyn whose schooling and experience had failed him.Cool headedness had not failed Fryn however, and as I prepared to make an exceedingly poor decision, I watched a small packet wrapped in leaves fly towards the dragon, one edge aflame and already issuing forth a rather pungent smoke. The beast recoiled as the smoke neared it, shaking its head and issuing forth a number of ember-filled sneezes. In my stupor of fear, I almost entertained the thought that I should walk over and investigate what compound had caused such an effect, but my own well-being thankfully drowned out such ideas. Whatever the gnath had done, had distracted the creature, and that was all the time I needed. Rushing towards Fryn, its hand still extended after throwing his life-saving aromatic, I grabbed the gnath and whistled for Burt, who was all to eager to rush away from the snorting dragon and pick us up for a hasty retreat.Even loaded as he was, my trusty mount sped away from the dragon, fear no doubt giving it the strength to handle the weight of the equipment and two passengers. Lucky for him that it had, as shortly after our flight from our foe began that the sneezing stopped, replacing what had been a rather comical set of noises from the beast with an absolutely blood-chilling roar. Snapping the reins, I tried to encourage Burt to move faster; motivation that most definitely was not needed, but made me feel better nonetheless. Meanwhile, Fryn had unslung its firearm and was rather valiantly trying to aim over my shoulder at the dragon. I had no clue as to the accuracy or effectiveness of the weapon against our pursuer, but I gritted my teeth and prepared for the explosion that was sure to follow after. Come it did, and I could feel my ears ring in protest at so close a thunderous blast. Burt started as well, redoubling his already impressive pace. I could almost swear that as my hearing returned, I could hear rather indignant clicks coming from Fryn, as if it was disappointed with the performance of its weaponry.Such criticism of the firearm may have been warranted, as the dragon was still in hot pursuit, embers dripping from its maw as it gained on Burt’s tailfeathers. The chocobo was rapidly becoming tired, thanks in no small part to its heavy load and sheer state of panic. If we didn’t find somewhere to lose our pursuer soon, our fates would be a foregone conclusion. Scanning the cliffsides for anything of use, I nearly exclaimed in joy as I spotted a cave entrance just large enough for Burt to scramble into. Granted, it was also large enough for the hungry maw of a dragon, but it seemed the best option available. Steering Burt in that direction, I ducked and held onto Fryn as we charged into the dark cave. Roaring still behind us, I jumped to dismount and frantically looked around the cavern mouth for any way to block the beast from entering. Unhooking my pick from my belt, I began to feverishly hit every weak point in the stone I could see, hoping to cause a cave-in or at the very least block us from sight.Once again, my plans were usurped by those of my tiny companion, who clacked forwards resolutely and began placing more small packets near the cave’s entrance. Such an act would have brought me some degree of joy if Fryn had not put itself directly in the line of fire of the dragon who had at this point caught up to us. The beast reared back, and I could see its mouth bleed flame. Caring little for Fryn’s plans, I rushed forward to grab the gnath again and flung myself further into the darkness of the cave.It turned out, that I needn’t have expended such energy, as I was carried on a wave of exploding firesand and sulfur straight into the cavern’s wall with Fryn in tow. The gnath’s packets had detonated on contact with the dragon’s flame and collapsed the cave in front of us, leaving me blind, sore, and thankfully, very much alive. Even through the newly made blockade of stone we could hear the dragon bellowing, but I laughed beside myself. I was still whole, more or less, and had escaped a dragon with the help of a gigantic roach. If that didn’t make for a splendid story when I returned, I didn’t know what would. I was joined in by quick clicks from Fryn and soft kwehs from Burt, all of us apparently all too happy to have evaded death mostly unscathed.The roaring subsided after a few minutes, as did our laughter, and we remained silent in the pitch black for some time. Eventually however, I groaned and lifted myself to my feet, intent on staring a fire and investigating our surroundings. It was only then in the relative silence that I noticed the sound of cracking from below. Stumbling blindly in the darkness, I tried to make my way towards Burt’s saddlebags, but each new step brough another crack. When I grasped the leather of the bag, I let out another sigh of relief, something which I should have learned was nothing but bad luck after the events of the day. With that last footfall, another crack sounded out, followed by another and then another, until a full rumble came from below my feet. The sound stopped, the floor fell, and I tumbled downwards. I know not how far I descended, but the last thing I remember before my vision went as black as our surroundings was a sharp pain the back of my head.

The Sixth Day – Darkness

I should preface the beginning of this account in that I have no true idea as to the amount of time that passed between the previous events and those of what I can assume was the sixth day of my journey. It was only in retrospect upon returning to Emporium that I was able to truly determine the total length of my journey, and I’m happy to say that I only ever had to miss the sight of a singular sunrise. Still, it was somewhat disconcerting to open my eyes to the same sight that had greeted a rather fitful sleep. Adrift in a sea of black, the only assurance I had that I had not been swept off to the afterlife was the feeling of cool, moist rock beneath my back and the throbbing pain in my skull.As consciousness crept back into my mind, I became more intimately aware of other senses. The air was thick with the smell of moisture and my ears were left to their own devices to determine just how much of a threat every minute sound posed. I first noticed the soft, labored kwehs of Burt, the bird obviously in just as much pain as I was. Next the clacking of chitinous feet across stone. Good, I thought, Fryn had survived the fall as well. Given the rapidity of each footstep, it seemed to be doing better than either myself or my bird, no doubt its natural armor having blunted the fall far better than our clothing or feathers. Groaning, I sat up and then began to crawl towards the pained sounds of my mount. I could feel the chocobo start at my touch, though a few calming words saved me from being kicked by his talons. Fumbling in the darkness, I felt for my saddlebag and searched for my crystal lantern. At the first slice across my finger I nearly panicked, the glass casing had been shattered and I had little guarantee that the crystal itself had not followed suit. Thankfully, the interior and casing of the device had remained relatively unscathed, and I eagerly activated the device, allowing it to cast a soft white light into the black abyss.Vision brought clarity, and with such understanding a number of issues both small and large. Looking up to see where we had fallen from, I estimated that the drop had been a little more than twenty fulms. Deadly under many circumstances, but it appeared as the the Twelve had been watching out for the three of us during our desperate flight from the dragon. Climbing up and removing the cave-in seemed a rather fanciful prospect, and such a thought was quickly discarded. Of greater immediate concern was my own condition and that of my companions. Fryn scuttled along the edge of the lantern’s light seeming no worse for wear, which could hardly be said of Burt. The chocobo lay on the ground, his feathers matted with blood and one of his legs badly bruised and twisted. Though I had only rudimentary medical training, I did my best to ascertain the problems and determine the best solution. The leg could be braced, though the bird would be in no condition to carry a rider or heavy gear for quite some time, and the blood seemed to stem from a rather badly broken wing, the comparatively small part of the bird having suffered a compound fracture. Cursing under my breath, I returned to my saddlebag and got to work.Time passes differently when there’s no sun or sky. It was difficult to tell whether my ministrations to Burt took minutes or hours, but at the end, I had set a splint to the bird’s leg and cleaned the wound on its wing. Sad as it was, the latter would likely have to be amputated on our return home, but for the time being, staving off infection would have to do. With a helpful shoulder and arm I assisted the bird in standing and took what I could of its load onto my own back, leaving the rest on the cavern floor. Many of our emergency measures would be left behind, but what was left seemed to be more than enough to complete our journey. Fryn, for its part, had spent the time exploring the nearby chambers of the cave, its clattering movements echoing in the darkness as it moved in and out of the lantern’s glow. I tried calling out to it a few times during that time, but it didn’t respond. Obviously just as lost as we are, I thought, and dismissed any other notions from my head.Preparations to press forward complete, I evaluated our next course of action. Luckily the cavern we found ourselves in held a number of clues that pointed in a means of escape. Before our creation of a short-lived hole in the ceiling, it seemed that the cave had been a relatively straightforward affair, being a long tunnel that declined slowly in one direction. A small stream flowed the same way, and it was my fervent hope that following it would lead us to daylight and our eventual goal. Fryn seemed to agree, as the moment I started in the chosen direction, it chittered in satisfaction and pressed forward, its makeshift firearm held before it.With the light of the crystal guiding us forward, we pushed forth into the darkness, mindful of the slick rocks of the cavern floor. Going was slow, especially with a near lame chocobo, but we would have been hard pressed to move faster; the close confines of the cave were not conducive to a quick egress. Yalm after yalm of cold stone walls passed by, each section much the same as the others with the occasional stalagmite or stalactite blocking our path to remind us that we were indeed moving forward. In the silence and shadows, I admit that I began to grow a bit restless. The faintest trickle of water alongside the monotonous plodding of my feet, and the constant skittering clicks of Fryn’s against the stone wore on my sanity more than I would have thought. Conversation would have certainly helped to put my mind at ease, but for all my attempts to speak with my gnath companion, it seemed determined to ignore me. Perhaps it was simply a side effect of having been placed in this situation or perhaps it was more injured than I thought, but its lack of even a chittering response to my calls was unnerving. Nevertheless, we continued, only pausing when the light stopped illuminating the walls and instead hung in the black abyss of a much larger chamber.Had I been in a more academic mood at the time, I would have happily charted every nook and cranny of the wonder we found ourselves in. This section of the cave was quite large, and my later estimates placed it at roughly two to three hundred fulms across. At its center sat a pool of barely moving water, a feature that took up nearly the entirety of the room. Skirting its edge, determined to locate the point at which the water continued to flow outwards, we passed towering columns, beautiful clusters of limestone formations, and dull unaspected crystals simply begging to be brought back to Emporium for study. Still, as loaded as I was and with one companion unwilling to stop and the other being ill-able to afford the time it would take to collect samples, I reluctantly left the natural marvel to be charted another day. Other than dodging the odd coblyn that scurried away from the light, the journey continued rather easily with only a few large steps requiring more ginger maneuvering to get Burt to cross.Eventually, we located the stream’s flow again, trickling out of the gargantuan pool at a much steeper decline. As relieved as I was to be back on our course, it was quickly dampened by the increased care needed to guide my chocobo down the slope. Fryn more than once turned back to regard us, still entirely silent, and I could only imagine that it was rather unhappy that we were taking so long on what it must have seen as a simple walk. Regardless of what may have been moving through its little natural helmet, it made no complaint, and simply began to scurry away faster each time we resumed movement.Endless stone passed by again, and just as my weary legs and back were at their limit, I felt it. Wind. The caress of soft breeze against my skin did more for my spirits and strength than the most potent potion or elixir, and it seemed to liven Burt just as much. Hope filling our hearts, we quickened our pace and nearly cried in delight as a setting sun entered our vision, illuminating a scorched landscape before us. This was it. We had reached the Smoldering Wastes of the Dravanian forelands.With a source of freshwater still nearby, I quickly set to making camp and having a simple meal. So great was my joy at finally arriving at my destination that not even archon loaf could dim my spirits. In my celebration, I called over to Fryn, entreating it to come over, my offering of the horrific Sharlayan bread the best I could offer in the situation.It didn’t move. It didn’t even acknowledge my voice. What before had been my traveling companion did nothing but stare near the edge of the campsite. Curious, I rose to my feet and walked towards it, determined to see what held its attention so. Following its sightline, I looked out towards the horizon and was just able to make out tall spires rising into the sky. From each poured thick fumes, almost as if they were the smokestacks of a factory. Even with the sun rapidly dipping below the horizon, Fryn remained there staring, unwilling to move closer to the campfire even when darkness pressed in around us, a repeat of the day’s tribulations if not for the soft illumination of stars and moon above. Calling once more towards the gnath and continuing to be ignored, I attended to Burt once more and settled in for some much-needed sleep.

The Seventh Day – Farewell

While I’m sure that any number of soldiers or mercenaries could tell me of any number of times they woke with a barrel pointed directly at their face, I assure you that such a situation was entirely new to me. Opening my eyes from what was a very well-deserved rest, I near immediately soiled my trousers at the sight before me. Fryn stood over me, the tiny gnath’s legs on either side of my head, it’s blunderbuss hovering dreadfully close. My blood froze and my breath caught in my throat. I had never gone so far as to imagine the two of us friends, but I had presumed that we at least shared the comradery of two explorers doing their best to survive. Mind racing, I tried to imagine what I might have done to solicit such aggression. I’d shard food with the gnath, healed it, protected it, and even done my best to teach it what I could about my own life and customs.Still, even if I couldn’t justify it, the fact remained that with a single spark of flame my head would be little more than a red stain across the cliffside. My only saving grace, I determined, was that Fryn hadn’t found it necessary to kill me when I was completely helpless. Some compassion or feeling of fair play had to exist somewhere within its alien mind, and it was up to me to either capitalize on that opening or perish. Head still, I glanced to the side, back to the collection of spires that had commanded the gnath’s attention the night before. From what I knew of the creatures, they lived in such structures, and I could only assume that the place was the creature’s home. Perhaps, I thought, it saw me as a threat to its people, and invader now that we were within sight of its people’s lands.Moving my arm slowly, watching carefully for any sign of movement from the gnath, I pointed at the gnath hive in the distance. The creature’s tiny eyes followed my hand and then darted back to me, not willing to keep me unobserved for more than a moment. One part of a message sent, but still not enough to convey my intent. I followed with a slow gesture of bringing my hands up in a sign of surrender, palms up and facing my captor while shaking my head. There was nothing I wanted with the gnath or its people, I was simply a companion with no ill intent. Fully at Fryn’s mercy, I awaited its response.Seconds ticked by like hours as the gnath continued to hold its firearm for the killing shot. Burt was thankfully silent, still sleeping from his tribulations in the cave, as I could only assume that an ill-timed chirp from the chocobo would spell my doom. I waited and waited, and after a small eternity, Fryn withdrew its weapon, scuttling several paces away and pointing at its home. It then gestured at me and leveled the blunderbuss at me again. From its behavior, it was obvious that it was ready to move and would not be kept waiting for long.A literal gun at my back, I woke Burt and made ready to travel down into the dusty plains of the wastes. What had been up until this point a journey with pleasant company had now turned into a forced march by a bipedal insect. Combined with the rather bleak landscape, the entire affair was rather unpleasant. Scorched earth spread out far to the east, only being broken by small patches of trees and the occasional ridge of barren rock. Nothing in the way of cover existed nearby, the draconic shadows in the distance a constant threat that I did not relish the idea of encountering. Still, I had at last reached the location of my quarry, and my eyes constantly kept vigil for any sign of a dark chestnut. My survey was interrupted however, as every time I slowed or seemed to become distracted, I was met with a silent stare and lowered barrel. Whether I was a prisoner, future corpse, or worse I had no idea, but none of the options seemed particularly good at the time.As we continued, the looming spires in the distance grew ever closer. With a better view of what I assumed was our eventual destination, I was filled with a mixture of terror and awe. Akin to a massive termite mound, the structures seemed to be made of a mixture of minerals and organic material, sculpted into tall columns that spewed forth greenish smoke that even at this distance had a somewhat putrid odor. I immediately recognized the scent as the same concoction that Fryn had thrown at our draconic pursuer, and while it brought little comfort, I was at least pleased that I likely didn’t need to fear any danger from the sky. Well, that was perhaps half true. The buzz of kongamato was faint, but ever present, and I could only assume that at a moment’s notice a swarm of gnath riding the creatures would descend upon me and my hapless chocobo. If the hive were alerted, there was little chance that I could get away, unscathed or otherwise.Perhaps to calm my nerves, or perhaps simply because I refused to resign myself to my fate, I began to babble behind my guard. I began to speak of everything we’d been through together, all the different plants and animals we’d seen on our way, and even our flight from the dragon not two days ago. I had little hope that any of my words were understood given the gnath’s current state, but my mouth continued to run. Not having any thoughts to the contrary, I began to speak of my home in Emporium, my family, and even my mission. Though I have little recollection of the exact words used, I seem to recall describing the object of my search and those who had given me the task in not so flattering terms. Certainly, if one were to have observed my behavior in such a situation, they would have thought me absolutely mad, or at the very least a whining fool barely fit to have been given such a task in the first place.At that moment though, I could have cared less. With each step through the dusty plains, I grew more desperate. I pleaded and begged, only for my captor to remain entirely indifferent. My thoughts went back to my cramped apartment in the Collector’s Quarter. To the small pool next to building, and to two young roegadyn dangling their feet in the water, their mother and father watching them giggle in joy. To a taciturn elezen sitting next to a desk covered with work orders and piles of books. To an idyllic field of green where lovers and students sat eating in the midday sun. Such images were distant in the present however, with the only thing in my current reality being malms of scorched earth, an uncertain fate, and a former friend turned sudden enemy. Though others would likely criticize me, I could hardly blame myself for trying to cling onto every good memory I could and every hope I had of being able to relive them in the future.So involved in my own incessant speech was I that I barely noticed it when the gnath had stopped in its tracks. My attention was only drawn back when it once again threatened me with its weapon. Raising my hands, I halted and waited for instruction. To my surprise, the former Fryn motioned to a nearby tree and back to me, all the time keeping me in its sights and line of fire. Following its direction, I looked at the nearby vegetation and was both stupefied and relieved. There stood a dark chestnut tree, its branches practically brimming with its namesake. Tentative step by tentative step I inched closer to the tree, watching for any sign of aggression or disapproval from the gnath. When I reached the trunk with no sign of either from the creature, I withdrew my notebook and began to catalog my findings.With so many nuts on this particular tree, it was difficult to discern why such objects were normally so difficult to find, though I was able to discern a few things of note. The nuts themselves were nearly the same shade as the wood, and if there had been fewer present, they likely would have blended in entirely to the bark. Furthermore, each small cluster of nuts was surrounded by a dense wreath of leaves, further obscuring the seeds from view. As I sketched and scribbled down my findings, I became aware of a soft clicking to the side. The gnath was growing impatient, and I quickly began to finish my examination of the tree. Grabbing a handful of my quarry along with a small snapped branch and a few samples of bark, I returned to Burt’s side and placed my meager findings in his saddlebag. I then turned, and awaited my captor’s instruction.Guidance was not forthcoming, as the gnath stay silent, but its movements proved to be more enlightening. It scuttled back and forth in an odd pattern before coming to rest, gesturing at the ground after doing so. Stealing a glance at the ground, I was astounded by what I saw. The gnath had at least remembered some of what I’d taught it during our travels, and had written me a message; it’s spindly legs having served as a quill in the ash and dust of the wastes. The numeral “one” and a rather crude image of a man running were present, and though it took me a few seconds to understand its meaning, the slight lowering of the gnath’s weapon made it apparent.Quickly I turned, leading Burt away, not daring to look back lest I be met with my imminent demise. Running was impossible with my chocobo injured as it was, and so we walked away, swiftly as we could, heading for the safety of the caverns that now lay some distance to the west. Internally, I counted the time, each second coming closer and closer to the end of my safety. As I reached a count of one minute, I heard a sound of thunder and felt a stone fly past my ear, far too close for comfort. Our pace quickened, and we left the wastes, and Fryn, my former friend, behind.

Afterword

Needless to say, dear reader, that I arrived back in Emporium safely after my journey. I turned over my findings to my superiors and they assured me that my efforts had advanced the study of botany on our star by leaps and bounds. Hogwash. No doubt those idiots in the lecture halls tossed a few of the nuts at their interns for study and used the rest to flavor their morning coffee. Still, it wasn’t my place to ask why I was given such tasks, only to fulfill them. Truth told; it was more infuriating that my findings regarding the gnath fell on deaf ears. Few were interested in hearing of how I had come to travel with one of their people or of the remarkable ingenuity it had showed during our time together. Typical Sharlayan response to ignore the intelligence of others in favor of expanding one’s own by a miniscule amount.Of course, Emporium is gone now. Though the ruins have been colonized by goblins and treasure hunters, my own home is overgrown with vegetation and inhabited by little more vilkein. The pool nearby is dry, and the busy streets that once were filled with laughter and conversation are dreadfully silent. Home is no longer home, but there have thankfully been new places since that have born that title.As for Fryn, I imagine that the gnath is likely dead. The tribe is not known for having exceptionally long-lived members, and given its constant aggression against both the nearby dragons and the denizens of Coerthas who have moved into the area, casualties are a common occurrence. While I have made a number of trips back to the area in more recent years to treat with certain gnath who have broken away from their hive, I have seen no signs of my former companion, and all I have spoken to have made no indication that he still remains among the living. A pity, but I do find some small solace in the fact that he did at least get to live the rest of his life with his people, though admittedly he likely found the same amount of joy in the arrangement. Still, it is still my fervent belief that it is better to live among others than it is to die alone, and I was able to afford Fryn that luxury for a short time.And there you have it. A tale of a rather hapless explorer and an oversized insect traveling through Dravania on what turned out to be a relatively meaningless venture. Adventure if mostly behind me, but I do still look back fondly on some of my younger years and hope that if nothing else, my foolishness and mistakes can better inform and prepare a future generation of fools and failures on their journeys. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a warm fire, a plate of cookies, and a rather unhappy hatchling of the late Burt to attend to. Farewell, safe travels, and may every day see you to a new horizon.- Iyrnskylt Berktyrnsyn

Family

Sthalswys Berktyrnwyn

Relation: Half-Sister
Gender: Female
Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf
Origin: Dravanian Hinterlands
Age: 40

Having only learned of her existence after he had left his home in Sharlayan, Iyrn was quick to bond with his sibling and she became one of his fastest friends within his new home of Emporium. Always quick to aid her brother and offer him a spare bed or comforting word, she trusts him implicitly, as is evidenced by her willingness to let Iyrn raise her son and daughter while she was kept from them for many long years.Though her life has been touched by tragedy, with her husband having been lost to her at a young age, she has never stopped moving forward and she now puts her brilliant mind to work in her brother's homeland. She currently holds a position as a researcher within Labyrinthos, where she focuses her efforts on examining the habits and needs of the various exotic creatures that are housed in the facility.Despite her simple upbringing, she is quite proud of where she comes from and is more than willing to let any native born Sharlayan know just how wrong they often are. Her kind smile and soft words often hide biting commentary that she is all too eager use to tear down those who have built themselves up under false pretenses or outright arrogance.

Wysskoef Aergahrsyn

Relation: Nephew
Gender: Male
Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf
Origin: Dravanian Hinterlands
Age: 20

The first of twin siblings born to Sthalswys and Aergahr, Wysskoef has known Iyrn ever since he was born. A bright child even from a young age, Wyss was more than happy to listen to his uncle's recollections of his time in Old Sharlayan and devoured every book or tome he could get his hands on. It was with no small amount of pouting that he watched his mother leave Emporium to start her studies in the land he held in such high esteem, and it would be quite some time before his own dreams of studying there came to fruition.As he grew, Wysskoef continued to expand his mind and spent a great deal of time near his uncle and grandfather during their work within Limsa Lominsa. From their dealings with the arcanist's guild he learned the basics of arcane geometry and as he continued his studies he began to petition for entry into Sharlayan and the prestigious Studium therein. After years of waiting, he was eventually admitted entry, and with no small amount of joy he set off for Sharlayan where he reunited with his mother and quickly made no small name for himself as an up and coming new minds from across the sea.Quick to trust and quick to love, Wysskoef is a romantic at heart and enjoys the small things in life just as much as he does the rigors of academic pursuits. On the days where he is not attending lectures or assisting professors he can often be seen in the gardens of Sharlayan musing over poetry or laughing loudly with other students eager to forget their troubles for a time.

Waekswys Aergahrwyn

Relation: Niece
Gender: Female
Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf
Origin: Dravanian Hinterlands
Age: 20

One of twin siblings born to Sthalswys and Aergahr, Waekswys, or simply Waek, first met her uncle shortly after he arrived in the Dravanian Hinterlands. Having grown up with the man nearby at nearly all times, she quickly formed a bond with him and often dreamed of going off on her own adventures into the wild. Fate would postpone such dreams however, as the exodus from Emporium left she and her brother under her uncle's care on their long journey south to find a new home.Naturally gifted with her hands, Waek found herself tinkering with machinery and tools from a young age, often watching Iyrn as he performed odd jobs and letting her curiosity get the best of her, sometimes to painful repercussions. Still, she learned from her mistakes and when she was seventeen summers old, she opted to see the world on her own terms, hopping aboard a trading vessel and plying her skill as a mechanic in exchange for pay and board. She has since returned to Eorzea and now works as a maintenance worker at the Desert Rose.Though she had to adopt a tough personality while at sea, any roughness to her demeanor is a facade. She enjoys the softer things in life just as she does the hard machinery she works with, and while shy, she wants nothing more than to meet new friends and continue to satiate her curiosity for the world and everything in it.

Berktyrn Bylgdyrfsyn

Relation: Father
Gender: Male
Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf
Origin: Old Sharlayan
Age: 65

Berktyrn was well established in Sharlayan in his early life as a procurer of goods and assistant to many researchers who required exotic plants and animals for their studies. Strong of body and sharp of mind, there was very little the man could not obtain if he set his mind to it, and such was the case with the heart of his future wife, Doenbryda. Though their jobs often kept them apart, they by all accounts did love each other, and their relationship eventually brought forth Iyrnskylt, their only son, into the world.Things were not entirely as they seemed however, as Berktyrn was wont to be gone from his wife and child for months on end, and it was eventually discovered that the man had sown his wild oats in Emporium and who knows where else. This revelation led to a rift with his wife and even his own son, and he was not encountered by the latter until the Sharlayan exodus from the Dravanian Hinterlands.In the current day, Berktyrn is a shell of his former self, having suffered a grievous blow to the head while protecting his son and grandchildren. The wound never fully healed and has had increasingly poor memory ever since, being unable to even recall the names of some of his closest family. Ignorance may be bliss however, as he still seems to enjoy his life and is currently under the care of his loving son.

Doenbryda Klynkirzwyn

Relation: Mother
Gender: Female
Race: Roegadyn, Sea Wolf
Origin: Old Sharlayan
Age: 68

If there was ever a quintessential Sharlayan scholar, Doenbryda would certainly have you believe it was her. Raised with the expectation of academic excellence from a young age, she attempted to impart the same to her son, Iyrnskylt, and her draconian methods of teaching did little to ingratiate her to the child. So harsh was her tutelage and high her expectations, that it was little wonder that her son abandoned his studies and seek out a more lighthearted life as an explorer.Doenbryda has never truly forgiven her child for his decisions, fully believing that her own name was brought low by his refusal to continue his studies. The bearer of an Archon mark and a commonly requested candidate for admittance to the Forum, she has worked hard for her esteem and views her status as something to be lauded and revered. Though rapidly nearing the end of her seventh decade, the woman shows few signs of slowing down, and her few vocal detractors claim that she is kept motivated by little more than spite and pride.She remains estranged from her son and former husband, despite reconciliation having been attempted in the past, and her sharp tongue and blunt demeanor earn her few allies other than hapless sycophants. Still, she is nothing if not a stubborn woman, and Doenbryda is determined to remain the Sharlayan example of dispassionate scholasticism so long as she still draws breath.

Relations