Memoirs of Adventure Creative Writing Contest (NA) - Official Entry Thread

[Elroy_Horiastus]

As a Warrior of Light I’ve had many fond memories within Eorzea as well as Norvrandt. There have been ups, downs, friendships, betrayals, triumphs, and many, many humiliating defeats within savage and even extreme content. However my favorite moments tend to stem from the feeling of desperation; events that prove that no matter how high your obstacles are stacked against you, you should never give up. Since my upbringings as a Paladin, I have always strived to make the best of things and see them to their triumphant conclusion, or perish trying.

My favorite case of this occurred during the liberation of Ala Mhigo. My squadron of adventurers accompanied me into the Royal Palace in order to confront Zenos Yae Galvus and put an end to his rule over Gyr Abania. If my memory serves correctly we had little difficulty getting to him, but it was during the duel with him that our fortune seemed to plummet. Before I knew it, our squadron was cleaved in half through methods I could not mitigate, and our party was reduced to a lone samurai and I when the fight was hardly even halfway done.

It practically took my entire arsenal of utility to keep the Samurai alive as well as replenish my own health. I had trouble even maintaining the mana for more than two casts of Clemency, but despite our casualties we were still able to show the strength required from what would normally be four people, as well as the vitality that was virtually impossible to match without a proper healer. In spite of our losses we still managed to come out on top and defeat Zenos.

Since that day, I’ve always joked about how Paladins need to have a battle resurrection spell, but it sincerely was one of my biggest highlights of playing. I may have failed to save the two who fell in battle, but I certainly wouldn’t let my last comrade be lost to combat. It made me truly feel like a tank, a shield to the sword that was needed to put an end to the Garlean rule.



If I'm selected I would like the bluebird earrings.

[boochieflake]

Dearest Wanderer,

I have a face and a name, but those things do not matter in the grand scheme of it all.

What matters is the story I have to share.

On a day no more special or peculiar than others, I felt alone. I have felt alone so many times in my life.

In a sea full of people, I blended, becoming one of the nameless faces that create the Eorzean people.

But I wanted someone to notice me. I wanted someone to recognize the being that I was. Not faceless, not nameless, not a passerby of insignificance. I wanted someone to care. So I shouted out into the sea of strangers, which felt more like a void, daring it to shout back.

To my surprise, it did.

Someone responded to my statement, which slips my memory now (it must have been something about how lonely I felt).

This person talked to me. She kept me company and reassured me of a better tomorrow that would surely follow this bad day.

This person and I became friends, a name I could refer back to when yearning for someone to know, in moments when I was surrounded by strangers.

However, it wasn’t enough. I still felt unfulfilled. I longed for support, comfort, and friendship that felt constant. I needed a family.

A few weeks later, I asked the strangers in the Limsa Lominsan Aetheryte plaza for Free Company recommendations. I hoped I could find what I was looking for.

There were a few responses. It warmed my heart to know there were welcoming people out there, but there was one response that changed everything for me.

The friend from before reached out to me, letting me know she ran a Free Company, small but mighty, willing to accept me. I jumped on the opportunity as quickly as I could.

My application was accepted and suddenly, I was thrust into a new world. A world where people greeted me by name each time I woke to start my next adventure, where conversations were hearty and inclusive, where help was abundant and unconditional, requiring nothing but the kindness returned. Most of all, it was a world where I belonged.

Dearest wanderer, if there is one thing I must convey to you, let it be this:

Our stories are our own, but they are also everyone else’s in some way, too. We see ourselves reflected in each other and by my own definition, that is what it means to be alive: to connect with other people.

There are people who feel exactly as you do. There are people who understand. There are people who care. You just have to open your heart and let them find you. And if they don’t, go find them.

You’re never alone in this world.

Sincerely,
Another Wanderer
(who, if chosen as a winner of this contest, would love the Noble Barding)

[Shawroosh]

There wasn’t just one time that I treasured or even a person I fell in love with that got me to keep exploring. I have way too many stories of those exact things. I journeyed with my sister for the first time but that only lasted for only a bit, I made and lost friends so many times that it's hard to pin-point just one memory. I was filled with love and torn apart by heartbreak so much that it's hard to say it was a turning point in my life. All of these are special to me, but these weren’t the reasons I kept going.

Silly as it might be, it was the feeling that I felt when the first time I truly stopped and gazed up at the night sky. I never saw so much attention in detail nor even a shooting star in any other game I have played before nor did I bother enough to even look. Sure there are day and night cycles in almost all MMOs, but this one was deep and vast some stars were different colors from the others even before the Astrologian was even a thing. As I stared up to those jewels I realized that the zone music had stopped. Making it feel quiet and still. All was calm with only the world to speak with the gentle breeze, ripples of water and ever so often footsteps of would-be travelers pass by.

I felt freedom in that peace. I felt my heart pound in excitement knowing there is more I must-see, a place I might have overlooked. Returning the night to the first reminded me of this very memory so overwhelmed was I that I blubbered and cried at that very moment.

Thank you,
A Wandering Traveler

(Noble Barding)

[demonladys]

A Shadow in the Blazing Light

Broken and battered, I slipped away through the dim-lit streets of Amaurot. It was amazing how empty the gargantuan walkways were -- save an occasional spectre, only interested in chastising me as if I were a child. If I had any fight left in me, I’m sure I would’ve given them the old “talk or die” routine. But that destructive sensation flowing through me kept me in check. Sheer hopelessness was all I could muster even as I pushed onward, the searing pain of light mutilating every nerve in my body. I tried, I really tried to put on a strong face for those who remained by my side. Yet I truly did yearn for this to be my end. For the light to shatter every bone in my body with every memory that remained. Why? Why must it always be me? I’m only one girl, yet it always falls on me. Because I was blessed with Her divine curse. Magnificent skyscrapers caved me in with a lingering familiarity. Spacious, yet claustrophobic. I scorned the one who sent me on this neverending mission. For every life I’ve saved, there’s been a fragment in my heart waiting for mine to end. I told myself over and over that the world needed me. Ha, how what a load of shite. This city that I -- or whoever I was -- once called home. My final resting place would be the shadow of a long-gone paradise, it too meant only to fade away in despair.

...Had Ardbert not noticed my will to live evaporate, I may not be here today. The pain subsided as his spirit grabbed hold of my face. He gave me a wake-up slap on the cheeks, though his palms were still transparent and touchless. The look on his face was destitute, yet determined. “Is that really all you’ve got, Mana? After all that work, you’re just going to let the wretched light win over?”

Tch, as if. I’ve always been a stubborn one when it came to my pride as a dark knight, and I wasn’t about to let that slip. I drew my blade and smashed it onto the concrete, pulling myself up, my ankles still stinging from the light. I could barely walk and wanted nothing more than to die right there, but something kept me limping forward, a voice in my head reminding me I wasn’t allowed to give up. No matter how much it hurt, don’t give up. That sliver of strength keeping me going… Fray, that was you, wasn’t it?




(Scarf of Wondrous Wit)

[o_0]

It was the grand opening of my bar and the wedding reception of two friends of mine, a ribbon-cutting tie-the-knot bonanza, and things were wildly out of hand. Barely half a bell in, three roast dodos were demolished and someone had faceplanted in the shortcake. A silver-haired Miqo'te had gotten cuffed to the bar to prevent him free access to the kegs, but it was too late to confiscate the one he was already draining. Perfect strangers were macking in the corner by the fireplace at a volume to rival the orchestrion. The groom was sprawled across the couch with one drink in him and his new wife was balancing a glass of Lominsan Red on his forehead. Glancing out a window as I brought another round of Shroud perry to a cluster of Triple Triad players, I saw my barmaid heave a Hyur bodily into the pond.

So the party was going well.

A pair of Lalafell gamboled underfoot as I made my way back to the bar past an Au'ra whose chin was dribbling with the juice of the damson in her partner's hand. Our mountain of a guildmaster was smiling genially at the room at large as he nodded off against one wall. A gangly Elezen flashed me a handsign and a wink; returning the latter, I reached beneath the bar and filled a tumbler with Garlean Oil--I know, I know, questionable legality and all that, but at least it was better than the group huffing ceruleum fumes outside by the campfire, which I certainly did not see at the time, thank you officer, and I can't remember their faces neither.

A Hyuran woman with a splash of Merry Mogharita on her muslin was scratching sigils on my countertop in an attempt to summon sobriety, hunched under the weight of the Roegadyn snoring on her shoulder. One overproud acquaintance was loudly proclaiming his victories in the arena; I awarded him with a pint of porter spiked with a hefty aperient--he was clearly full of shite. The cuffed Miqo'te with a hollow leg and, now, a hollow keg was casting about for something new; the chef lit up and slid a tub of untouched mandragora stew toward him.

Above the wine rack sat my bouncer, Finneas, keeping a watchful eye on the chaos. His yellow-and-black warpaint was enough to give anyone who spotted him a moment of pause. Of course, this was in part due to his being a fish mouthing soundlessly through the glass of his tank, but the idea of this fish being employed as a bouncer in the finest bar in the realms implied that he was godsdamned good at his job.

My staff and I shared a glance and inserted our earplugs as the opening lines of Eorzea's most famous song came over the orchestrion. In moments, the floorspace was filled to an ilm of capacity as the cadre of drunkards began howling the lines of "Answers" with all the harmony of a sack of gaelicats.

This was around the time the cuffed Miqo'te escaped his bonds and began stripping on the counter. But that's a story for another time.


-Tethys Alke, "Memoirs of a Cat with No Lives"

Bluebird Earring, please!

[Chroma_Veil]

To whom this would reach,

I don’t know who would find this, perhaps I am talking to no one and this message will forever float below the waves. Even so, this is less for the idea of someone reading this message and more for the ability to put to paper my own experiences to help me better forge my decisions for the future, and if this should find someone, then it could also serve as a form of guidance from someone who has seen their fair share in their travels across this world and beyond. I never felt more alone then when my story began, I had heard of the expansive and beautiful places beyond my secluded view and wondered if I could become a part of that world. Ever since then I have done so much, traveled from end to end of this world and seen near every type of person or creature you could ever imagine, and yet there is still so much more left to see and know. However, with great joy and wonder, sadness and regret linger not far behind. Those moments tend to stick out more to those who are privy to self-reflection, and can leave scars that none may ever truly see. I have pondered on many of these moments, and have come to realize, after a time, that loss of any kind cannot be left to fester in your mind calling you to make some foul choice or two in their name, and to accept and keep moving forward in your journey will give that loss worthwhile meaning. If any of these recollections of my journey taught me anything, it’s that not one can be thrown out as unimportant or uninfluential in my growth as a person, as all of the moments that have led up to now, light or dark, have made me into the person that I have become. Whether to remember the death of a close friend who did their all to see you safe, or the joyous end to a people saved from strife to carve a new future of their own making, none should be left aside. So, if you are still reading this, remember your own tale, and all of the trials and tribulations you had to suffer through, and embrace them, along with the boons and prosperity you may have earned, for to scoff at either would halt you from the growth you deserve.

~From the writings of a vigilant venturer

(If this should be chosen, I would prefer the Noble Barding for my lovely chocobo Bernard. Thank you for reading.)

[LyhteNoctis]

noble barding, sorry forgot to add this and we cant edit doc right? man

[justicelife]

Knowledge is a funny thing. To learn is to live. Without learning, we are no better than beasts, acting upon only the blood that runs in our veins.

However, curiosity killed the coeurl. If you must dive deep into the unknown, know that you may never breach the surface ever again.

Such musings are what led my adventure here, to the island they called “The Forbidden Land”. It was not an easy task to find people such as me, so hungry for knowledge that they would journey to such a place. Scholars, adventurers, aetherologists and beast tamers; all seeking the same: knowledge of an unknown world. The knowledge of Eureka.

Ordinarily I would always get appointed mercenaries, adventurers guild associates or conscripted soldiers to escort me along my journeys, but this was different. We were united under one common goal. Despite all the hardships we endured and the arguments we went through, we always came out on the other side stronger, smarter and most importantly, together. We pressed onward, our destination looming on the horizon among the blistering snow.

Our adventures were led by none other than Krile Mayer Baldesion, a most enigmatic figure. Her small stature and pleasant demeanor clashed violently with her shadowy history. Through much ‘accidental’ eavesdropping, I came to find that this was the very same Isle where the Scholars of Baldesion originated. Even more profound was that the Isle had been completely shaped anew after there was a devastating turn of events, not unlike that of the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

Knowing of this, our efforts expanded tenfold. Instead of the usual cheery and joyous atmosphere that usually filled the tavern, there were many hushed murmurs while scholars pored over tomes and papers. We knew that each word we scribed and each step we took drew us further to that blighted castle.

Armor clanking, weapons at the ready, we lined up to be debriefed on our final mission. Trembling, I gripped the hilt of my rapier in an effort to get a hold of myself. Soon, we would uncover the final secrets of this place; of what happened to Galuf. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. There they were, my team of would-be adventurers who had gotten into the same mess I did. Confident they were, not worried in the slightest. Knowing this, I could only try to do the same. I nod my head to them, and they nod back. I feel reassured knowing that we are in this together, and set my sights forward to the Baldesion Arsenal, where nigh a Primal nor an Eikon exist, but the miscreations of ancient Allag whom I only thought as mere fairytales did await us.

If you do come across this parchment know this, adventurer. Our lives are questions without answers. It is not happenstance that we learn to exist, for what else is there that awaits us beside death. If you are to seek knowledge, you will find much more than some words scribbled in tomes.

Yours Truly,
A Eurekan Explorer

(reward: Scarf of Wondrous Wit)

[Keladri]

In my travels across the realms, I often stumble upon yellowing scraps of parchment and notes, old maps tucked away and forgotten. I add these odds and ends to our collection, hoarding them away until such a time can be found to study and explore their contents.

At last, once our work is done and our party can reunite once again, we pull these faded bits out and pass them around, comparing notes and making plans. Oh, for by day we each may be grand warriors of legend, but by night, we are mere treasure hunters, always ready for the next great discovery.

With these crumbling maps in hand, we seek out all the fortunes this land has to offer... at least for those brave enough to look. If these treasures are guarded by fierce beasts and demons galore, well, we pay them little mind. And while these chests may provide a wealth of materials and prizes, what we truly hope to find is something a bit more special.

For sometimes, tucked away within these stashes, there lies a portal. They are gateways to some long lost dungeon, perhaps a hidden palace or forgotten paradise. Whatever form they take, these little pocket places promise both danger and riches to all those lucky enough to wander their halls.

Luck being the operative word, for while our careful exploration and study have noted each dungeon is made up of several rooms… well, we rarely make it past all the blasted traps. There is an end, we’ve seen its gilded walls once or twice, but more often than not we fail soon after arrival. We have all come to know and fear the sound of slamming gates. No, going right every time doesn’t work, nor does always going left. Dancing seems to only lift our spirits, not the gates themselves, and the doors pay no mind to our desperate pleas.

And yet, though our coffers never fill quite as much as we hope, and our bags are lighter than we would like, we are always on the search for the next chest and another portal. For while gold is sweet, and ancient treasures sweeter, it is the jokes and laughter that make even the shortest adventures worth while.

/Praying for your good fortune,
An Unlucky Treasure Hunter



(Prize Selection: Noble Barding)

[Geralin]

I gazed into the eyes that, just moments earlier, had been glazed and blazing red with the rage of eons. Now they were, once again, gold and cool. The bitter anger, the biting cynicism, the vengeful disappointment – all these things were gone from them, drained like poison from a festering wound. In their place was a calm resignation, an acceptance of the hand which fate had dealt.

“Remember that we lived,” Emet-Selch, the Architect, said softly.

I nodded. It was the least I could do for the help he had given. Remember him. Remember his people. Remember the tragic burden he had borne on his own shoulders for years beyond numbering. I could do that.

After the fire and rage, the shadow and despair, the war and the blood, came peace and calm acceptance. As I regarded my most worthy adversary, watching the light of a new dawn wash over his face and through the hole where once his heart had been, I made a vow to him and to myself. I would remember him. I would remember his people. Their city. That they had hopes and dreams no less than the hopes and dreams of those whom I protected. And, one day, perhaps, when I made that last journey to the place where all souls are eventually called, I would stop in to share new memories with my old friend. Perhaps then he would tell me what it is he’d seen that twisted his features into horrified sorrow. And perhaps we would open a bottle of the bittersweet brew and reminisce, trading tales and truths, hopes and fears, laughter and sorrow, until such a time as it came for us to make our next trek through life.
“I will,” I promised the shade of a man who had once and always been as much a part of my life as my own shadow.

And then I left the city of dying memories to return to the land of the living with the Scions and the Crystal Exarch, my old friend G’raha Tia.

That night, as I watched the sun set on a world still new to night’s shadow, I found myself sitting alone at a table in the bar with one glass before me and one to the side, lost in my own memories and promises to one who I prayed had, at long last, found peace.

Prize: Chocobo Barding