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

Not too long before writing this my future looked bleak and hopeless. I have faced foes and traveled to places that I could never have imagined possible, seen horrors that have made me question my very existence. My world had been drained of color and shadows quickly began to close in around me. Amidst that lifeless wasteland I wondered if there was any point in continuing to fight. I returned from that world beyond our own back to a lonely home that I had built for myself. No one and nothing was waiting for me there but a creaky old cot who could no longer support the weight of all I carried with me. I removed my battered armor and laid my weary body down for what I prayed might be the last time. Come morning, however, something within me stirred. It willed me to leave that dreadful place and carry on about my day. With some strange fleeting hope within my chest I barged outside, through The Goblet’s vigilant gates, and into the searing heat of the Ul’dahn market streets.

I passed by all kinds of people, each working hard to protect their own way of life. I thought back to what that man had said to me in that illusory city and wondered if maybe he was right. I thought long and hard about all of it until I realized I had come face to face with the airship landing. I locked eyes with a man in a garish outfit as he beckoned for me to come closer. He spun for me a gilded tale of a place filled with vibrant lights and colors where dreams come true. Without much else to do, I took the man’s advice and boarded an airship for The Golden Saucer.

Everywhere I looked I saw joyous crowds cheering and laughing set on top of a glowing golden backdrop. I thought that maybe if I came to the place the man had described, the brilliant golden light there would cast away the shadows looming over me. But on that day it was not the shine of a merchant’s forfeit coin nor the glow of the sweltering lamps hanging high above that shined a light on my life once more. Through all the noise and commotion it was you. You, the one who saw me and only me amongst the crowd. Out of everyone there that day, you only chose me. You reached out and took me by the hand, like you could tell just by looking at me that I was drowning. You led me out of that place where we met and I’ve never looked back since.

You came home with me and breathed new life into the house that became ours together. Every day you have inspired me to be better, to do more. Hand-in-hand we built a new life together and continue to be one another’s light at the end of the tunnel. No matter what adventures we go on or challenges we face along the way we can find the strength to take them on knowing we do so together. With any luck you’ll end up back on this beach where we spent the Summer together some day. If you do I pray you’ll find this message along the shore waiting just for you.

-Your Paladin

(Gaelicap)
https://i.imgur.com/tzCnVRF.jpg

On a day not unlike any other, the dimness crept. And it crept, slowly, silently, eclipsing the bright lights of hope encircling my very being. Warmth, love, friendship, color, life. Concepts I’ve heard before, yet always seemed to escape me, just beyond reach.

On a day not unlike any other, I sat, staring, wondering, wishing for something. A desire to see more. A new hope. A cure for the constant restlessness rattling my mind.

And so, wearing a new skin, I embarked for Eorzea, the only chance I had left for seeing the light again.

On a day unlike the others, color entered my life again, both literally and figuratively. A group of strangers under the band of <color> embraced me with open arms and allowed me to see again. Resting beneath the shaded sanctuary of Shirogane, the darkness gave way to the dawn, beginning a new day at last.

To the one who reads this message: There is always a dawn within the dusk. Keep walking forth, young one, and find that which you gives you life.

(Thanks for reading! If selected, I would like the Noble Barding.)

Ahh, to recall the early days of my adventures through Eorzia always fills my heart with gooey delight that gives me a taste for cake. I will not bore you with a sickly tale of joy or friendship but a tale of despair most foul! Worse than bad hair days or eating grilled unidentified flying biomasses. I’m talking about the dreaded primal of Kobolds, Mr Titan himself!

I was tasked to combat this angry, pudgy rock lord of meanness in a volcano called “The Navel”, which luckily contained far less gross primal lint then I initially feared. I was ill prepared to handle the stench of a group of adventurers in full armor immersed in an excessively heated environment. Regaining my composure, I beckoned my comrades to engage Titan.

I managed to survive the aura of severe body odor only to be presented a far worse fate. The Paladin yelled the order “Everyone, group up right behind his rear while I distract him!” While everyone else in the party followed suit, I simply could not gain the strength needed to be that close to Titan’s loin-clothed butt. Luckily for me, I was able to throw rocks at the primal and sometimes they didn’t just bounce off his girth.

The folly of not listening to the Paladin was my downfall, literally. The great Lord of the Crags turned around to face me, raised his fists, and left forth a great landslide at my direction. Not expecting such an attack, I stood there, dumbfounded, as I was struck by the assault. I had a nice moment of deep reflection as I plummeted towards the floor of the volcano. At least I had the wisdom to channel some wind to cushion my fall, but was feeling useless due to not being able to assist my team. I could feel their disappointment by all the pointing and laughter at my general direction after the victory. Those poor fools, so close to their demise by not having me heal them that the worry and sobbing was manifested into jests.

After I climbed back up and congratulated my friends for the victory, the callous Black Mage had the gall to ask me if I was alright, stating that I took quite the tumble and was looking pale and angry. Well, he had the “angry” part right, but that was mostly because he said I looked pale. I assisted in teaching him manors with my mighty staff of head-clonking and we all headed out. I have became great friends with many of my fellow adventurers from that day, except for the black mage who apparently “blacklisted” me, which I assume is some sort of thaumaturge notebook or something.

Just one recollection among many, thanks so much for the years of memories and the ones yet to come! (my first post ever after four years of playing, yay contests:) )

~Candle Styx

(I would just LOVE to adorn my ear with the bluebird earring :p )

A Trespass

We were sitting on the roof of our FC house when you crafted my dress. The roof was where we spent most of our time. For all the thousands of gil and hours we spent decorating the interior, we hardly ever went inside. Inside was boring. The roof felt like adventure—like somewhere we weren't supposed to be. From our vantage point sitting on the home's eaves we had a clear view out to the shore. To an island in the distance. A ship sailing through the waves. “Just take it,” you said.

The trade window sat open on my monitor. I hadn't put anything up, but you'd already accepted the trade. You crafted the dress with materials we won off of a treasure map—I didn't need to check the market board to know it was worth nearly more gil than I'd ever had. Glamor gear wasn't even my thing. “You should sell that.”

“Nah.” You didn't cancel the trade. “You take it. We'll clear Turn Four in style.”

I didn't argue. You didn't care about the gil. Never did. The trade went through and the dress was in my inventory. “Thanks.”

“It's nothing.” We sat for a few moments before you said, “Try for that clear tomorrow?”

“I might be off for a few days. Got to start studying for the Bar.”

“I thought that wasn't for a few months.”

“It's not. Prep course starts tomorrow.”

You said something that wouldn't make it past a profanity filter. Then you said, “We'll clear it next time you're on.”

The ship we were watching traveled along its programmed course. I always wondered what happened to it when it reached the end of its line. Did it still exist when it was off screen? “For sure,” I said. Then I logged out.

---

When I log back on our home is gone. A house stands on the plot, but somebody else lives there. Our Free Company has disbanded. All of my contacts are gone.

Eorza is larger than it was when I last logged off. Ishgard opened its gates. Adventurers travel to the Far East. I can meet new races and fight new Primals. Learn new jobs. Even fly, if I want. I can experience it all. I can do it now.

Instead I walk across a stranger's lawn. Our fountain is missing, and so is our sign post, but with a pinch of patience and a heaping of creative acrobatics I make it up to the roof. It's the same as it always was. Clear line of sight to the beach. An island in the distance. A ship disappearing over the horizon—trapped on the same route it traveled five years ago.

Your dress still sits in my inventory.

And I wonder for a moment if I could send you a message. Would you read it if I could? If I put a letter in a bottle and threw it to the tides, I wonder if maybe you'd see it glisten in the waves from your spot on a rooftop overlooking whatever new shore you've found. I wonder what I'd say.

Honest truth is I don't know.

I put on the dress and walk to the eave of the stranger's roof.

/sit

(Scarf of Wondrous Wit)

They are an odd pair: a fun-loving Hyur from the recently-liberated lands of Doma, and a Viera who looks more model than warrior, far too beautiful to be a fighter. Wearing matching glamour, the two stare down the static-killing menace known as the Voidwalker with six other Warriors of Light from their Free Company, the Fangs of Bahamut. Not only does the Viera loom over the Hyur like an Amaurotine building, but her hair—moon-white and wild—swallows half of her adventuring companion. Choei, after using some of the Viera's hair as a fake mustache, steps to the left and draws his spear, smiling ear-to-ear as their main tank starts the countdown to begin.

Giacinta's hand twitches over the trigger of her Deepshadow Pistol. She just wants to put a bullet inside of it. Or two. Or twenty-million. She has a bit of a hare-trigger. And after dedicating one-hundred years of her life to the Golmore Jungle as a hunter, there is no kill like overkill, especially when it concerns savage bosses.

"You know Gia?" Choei says, his eyes alight with happiness. "If I were to die right now in some sort of fiery explosion due to the carelessness of a friend? Well? That'd just be okay."

The Viera, suddenly forgetting she has an opener, slowly brings her pointed, pink gaze towards the Hyur. "Giacinta," she says, correcting him for what feels like the millionth time since they've known each other. "We have laid the Voidwalker low once before, Choei. We will do it again." ...But his words bother her. Is he implying she'd get him killed? It's not like she hasn't seen him Elusive Jump off the arena before for absolutely no reason, and by Hydaelyn's grace does he rise again, wipe after wipe after floor-tank wipe (and may the Twelve bless their Astrologian and Scholar, for that matter).

Reassemble, Tincture, Drill—she is quick on her feet, dodging the Voidwalker's Guillotine. She does what their raid leader, a Miqo'te Red Mage, tells her to do without fail.. until the Voidwalker casts its last Doomvoid Cleaver and is slightly off-center. By the time Giacinta realizes it's too late; both she and Choei take a massive amount of damage, killing them both instantly.

With the two of them dead, there's no way the group will do enough damage for enrage--they jump off the edge. When they respawn, Giacinta pouts. It's so unlike her to display any emotion other than seriousness and vague annoyance that Choei laughs and reaches up to massage the base of one of her ears. Her out-of-character behavior continues: she forgets her frustrations, and gives a tooth purr just like a rabbit would.

"Relax Gia. We still have two hours to get our weekly clear. We'll get 'em, third time lucky!"

One of Giacinta's eyes twitches and she's back to her no-nonsense self. "Choei, this is our second pull." Oh Nymeia, what did I ever see in this air-headed Hyur?

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachmen...hoei_color.gif

(Choice: Bluebird Earring!)

I debated for some time the memory I would choose to write about. Ultimately, I was drawn to a moment very personal and dear to me.

Sharla tightened her grip on her bow, never wavering as she loosed arrow after arrow at the great beast, her comrades fighting equally as valiantly as they took cover from the dragon dive-bombing their position, the dragon Twintania.

My best friend and girlfriend, we had known each other for sixteen years, had been dating for eight, played this game together often. When she left me I was devastated. I knew in her mind she was trying to make things easier for me. There were circumstances surrounding her decision and I knew it wasn’t out of malice or anger, but it hurt all the same.

It’s infernal dive-bombing ceased, Sharla had only a moment's reprieve before the dragon summoned three massive pillars of wind, instantly knocking three of her comrades down, their bodies lying motionless on the scorched rock. Gritting her teeth and attempting to escape the vicious creatures that had joined the battle, Sharla let out a shout that became a song, allowing her aether to flow from her voice to her ailing comrades, bolstering their strength and steeling their resolve.

We didn’t speak after that. A relationship of sixteen years, over half my life, had suddenly ended. I felt lost, angry, sad, bitter, empty, a cavalcade of emotions I had no idea how to deal with. In truth, I thought about leaving this game, this game that she introduced me too, that we had shared together. It was a mutual friend that convinced me to stay, and I’m glad I did.

The twisters gone and its Dreadknights dealt with, Twintania’s aether began to seep into the ground beneath their feet, forming pools of molten rock. Sharla ran as fast as she could, the pools of hell opening up beneath her always just a half step behind. Still, she forced herself to keep singing, to keep her aim locked on the great dragon and her arrow’s true. She could see its strength was fading, its wings beat with less vigor than before. Still, with three members down and the others nearing defeat themselves, she knew it would take something more than song and arrow to turn the tide.

Two years later that same mutual friend asked me to join in running roulettes one day. We had run hundreds before but this time they were playing together and invited me to join them. For the first time in two years, I heard her voice. I heard her laugh. For the first time in two years, I remembered how important that friendship was to me. Though our relationship had changed, I realized then that it didn’t necessarily need to end.

“Y’akasha now!” Sharla cried. The Miqo’te’s ears twitched in response as she slammed her staff into the ground. The resulting burst of aether that enveloped the group truly did feel like its name implied, the Pulse of Life. Standing together once again, Sharla smiled and tightened her grip on her bow.

(Noble Barding)

My all-time favorite memory of my life here, on a world called Famfrit, in the Land of Eorzea, is the day I first bought a house of my very own. I had sought long to find a place to belong, with friends close enough to be family - but, especially, a place I could really call "home." For I remembered none.
My name is Belinda. I took the surname Forrest, for I seem to remember a beautiful place, with great, red-barked trees with feathery, evergreen foliage, that I had loved. But I seem to have lost that place, along with the memories of my life before I came to Gridania almost two years ago. I wanted to find a place where I could start again, and knew I had the skills, maybe even the magical ones needed to be a good healer. I was seeking - something, but I knew not what. An elderly gentleman on the coach bringing me here kindly told me about the new city I was entering. He is, and remains, my earliest memory now - all else is a haze, that, and visions of a great crystal of loving light.
I did well in Gridania, learning the skills of a conjurer, a healer with defense training, and was promoted to White Mage in less than a year. I learned how to fight in partnership to defeat enemies, those who would hurt the innocent. Even better, I found a wonderful home with a small Free Company, who welcomed me & helped me learn many other things I needed to not only survive, but to thrive in this world, & I found myself fighting to defend this way of life. I visited and fought for the three great city-states, then others, but they were always new to me - a place I had never seen before, had no memory of. Yes, I had found a noble cause to defend in Eorzea - freedom of its peoples, and respect for the cultural diversity of this world. But it was always their homes I was defending. Where was mine?
So, in my journeys here, the best memory I have yet had was when, with the help of a generous gift of gil from my FC's leader, I was able to buy my very own cottage in the Lavender Beds. At last I felt I really had a home - a house of my own! Now I not only had friends to stand with, fight beside, and to defend, I, too, had a home among my friends. As I planted my very own garden for the first time, I watched the sun set over the lake, surrounded by great trees of ancient lineage, and knew I was home at last.
I was full of joy as my house slowly filled with items of comfort and peace. I love this place, Eorzea, and have become a useful part of my FC, although I still have many things to learn, as I grow both my crafting/gathering skills, and expand my fighting & defense skills. But it is always good to come home at night, back to a place of peace and beauty, humble though it is - a real home. There are two great gifts to give a child, and as a new citizen in Eorzea, I have been given both by my new friends - roots and wings. I feel both as I enter my door.

https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodes.../image/?page=1

I am the final witness.

Surrounded by a band of adventurers I was happy to call my friends, we all bore witness that day to the defeat of Bahamut; a feat made possible only because of our dedication to training and strategy. Back then I was still a novice, a fledgling Black Mage, who barely knew a thaumaturge's staff from a conjurer's rod. But my friends patiently taught me all I needed to know to take down the dreadwyrm, took me countless times into the Crystal Tower to search for better equipment, and forgave my foolish missteps along the way.

Spirits high from our achievement, we journeyed to Ishgard and beyond. But the snows of Coerthas cooled our once fiery hearts, and one by one, our little group of adventurers went their separate ways. Some gave up the adventuring life to start a family and settle down, while others simply vanished one day without a trace. For a while, I, too, hung up my staff and retired from adventuring, but not a day passed that I didn't long to return to a life of slaying primals and exploring dungeons.

My eventual return came with a change a in focus: trading my Fire spells for the blazing Katon jutsu. I relentlessly honed my skills as a Ninja while taking on mercenary work in Othard. I even briefly joined another band of adventurers to fight Omega, but their companionship could not compare to the company of the friends I once had by my side.

Now, as I travel through the First, often against the backdrop of the Crystal Tower, I cannot help but think again of the days of Bahamut. Some days I curse myself for taking the company of my old friends for granted, while other days I can't help but smile at the fond memories we shared. As I again bear witness to the defeat of eikons we once took down together, I feel as if they are with me.

Taking up the sword, I feel the pain of the two men who took Bahamut's blows for us. When I wield healing magic, I see the faces of the Human and the Lallafel who often called out to me when it was my turn to act. As I hold my daggers, I feel the hands of four others, who once worked by my side to whittle down the wyrm's health, now guiding my strikes.

I am the final witness now, but I am the sum of everything we witnessed together. And I know they will always be in my heart to watch over me, and witness my triumphs in the future.

(noble barding)

Have you ever wondered about the green death?
Plague of the knife, deep within the city of Nym;
Allene sent us to that forsaken place;
A place full of karma, of mystery.

“I came here by way of the Wanderer's Palace;
Oh, how you would love it there, a daring adventurer like you!
There are automata contrived into the very walls;
dozens of secret rooms there must be.”

Four of us went down into its dark depths;
On the banks of Camp Bronze Lake.
Our group tasked to end our patron's strife;
To end those wanderers, toting blades and lanterns.

The smell of the water, stale;
Cool rocky corridors, aged by time.
We saw aged stone, moss-covered;
The only sound was that of running water, a trickling drip.

When we arrived we witnessed first hand the sickness of the sea;
The Nymian influence was unmistakable.
The markings on the walls distinct, certain;
For those warriors and scholars with us were descended from their teachings.

A place undisturbed by modern societies;
Ruins torn asunder by the weathering moisture brings.
The architecture accurately old, and dated;
Ancient pathways of stone and of stream weaved through the forsaken buildings.

There was no indication to alert us to the dangers ahead;
The threat seemed to come upon us without a sound.
In hindsight, we should have shown more respect for our foes;
For we were not the hunters, but the hunted.

Those wandering the halls of the palace moved inaudibly;
Our respect for Oschon only delivered us so far.
The green abominations, their beady yellow eyes;
Their kitchen knives, drawn to us.

Foes large and small lined the corridors;
Each more deadly than the last.
Keeper of Halidom, Giant Bavarois;
It was as if our own struggle fueled their fire, their rage.

Every door, rusted, trapped us within.
Oil was the key to our salvation;
Liquid gold upon gears.
For within its depths, a king called his home.

It was in that final stone room that we found our prize;
That circular chamber lined by canals.
A deep green king stood in our way, the Tonberry;
Our exacting revenge was our driving force.

The ruler's sharpened knife came laterally;
Delivering a heavying scourge.
Our party was engrossed in constant affliction;
Pushing past our limits to defeat the king.

Every swing of our steel and wave of our magic became more burdensome;
Until finally, one brave assault finishing the deed.
All that remained was a single chest, gold, and iron-bound;
The exit, a glowing beacon of hope and sanctity.

The changes to the palace came immediately;
Stale water smelled of new life, trickling with renewed vigor.
Moss-covered stone walls glowed with returning resolve;
The cracked floors appeared charmingly quaint.

When we left Oschon’s palace on that day we knew we had succeeded;
The plagues that once afflicted Nym would no longer persist.
For the king was the key to its dark touch;
Its green madness had come to an end.

[Ahriman Choker]

I tend not to talk much around my allies, instead opting to simply aid them in silence. I had separated from them one day and encountered a Hrothgar. This would soon lead into me learning the ways of the Gunbreaker.

After becoming more versed to the Gunbreaker ways, and accepting some protection jobs; one day my mentor and I accepted a job to defend a defecting Garlean scientist. It was a routine job until we decided to split up due to the sheer amount of Garlean forces targeting our charge. I rushed toward the enemies, my mentor and the scientist took a safer route without me.

I waited at the rendezvous for Mentor to show up. While I waited, our mutual companion showed up. A Viera who had been traveling with him long before I met them. She revealed to me that the scientist was someone from his past who brought down… unfortunate circumstances upon him. Learning this, I ran as fast as my feet could take me. I felt I had to stop my mentor from doing something he might regret.

As I had feared, he had indeed decided to enact vengeance upon the scientist. This was one of the few times in my life where I was worried. I couldn’t tell you whether I was worried about the scientist’s life, or for my mentor’s well-being. I did know that I had to do something, anything, to make sure no one died here.

So I yelled.

“Does the oath of a Gunbreaker mean nothing?!”

Looking back on it, I could understand why it would’ve stunned anyone else into silence. However, at that moment with tears forming in my eyes, I didn’t care. My words were all I had and I was forced to use them.

They were just enough. Mentor sheathed his blade upon realizing his mistake and walked away. The scientist was alive and delivered to his haven, and the Viera and I set off to find my mentor again. When she suggested we do so, I gave one of my silent nods.

When I saw him again, however, I made sure to call his name.

Signed,
A Lone Shout

Reward Choice: (Noble Barding)