Words Unsung From the Mute Bard
Weary Wanderer,
Follow my song
A love-
A love now far lost
To the farthest reaches of the land and sea.
I was willing to shine my brightest
I was willing to surpass thee.
Following made days dark and uncertain.
Reality ever changing-
Until the call for the final curtain.
Love Lost to me-
Fueled my despair and anxiety.
The fondest memory is in the aftermath of my love’s bounty
One he could not share with me.
Alone,
Shoulders heavy with a head I could not hold high
And my fondest memory-
Is of those that found me,
And the land that embraced me.
To those I’ve met- unknown unto you wanderer;
Deathisper gave me care-
L’iaho gave affections.
Gatrish taught me to laugh-
And also to practice patience.
Kairithian an elder brother-
And Raven the younger.
Both who would protect without hesitation, one another.
To Nayru and Akuma, who moved to a far reaching land-
Still give us their time, to give a smile and do what they can.
Lilandria had gifted our fellows with hearth and home,
And Bot who blessed such endeavors-
Even when instinct beckons to leave and roam.
All assisted with Devia-
Even if his was a lost home.
Lucifer and Alucard as a pair that brings love and comfort
Even in the darkest places they go.
Know Raigo and Liasi, awkward yet true
Saw our progress, helped us grow
Rogi, the newest addition
And still others unmentioned
Friends from other lands,
Those that followed me to Eorzea-
To quell the calling of temptation.
Adair, my lost love-
Gifted this memory to me.
Though foreign his affections now
The fondness keeps it clear to see
I was but a fledgling,
Bow and arrow settled in trembling hand.
As I am now-
Singing anthems to my found family band.
My fondest-
Are the gifts Eorzea gave me.
Gifts of courage, love, and place.
Now given home-
A place of welcome warmth.
One where my name is known-
The love they also have for me is shown.
Weary Wanderer,
My tale reminds me of all that has been lost-
Reminds me of what there still is to gain.
If your struggle is one that weighs heavy in your heart
If the world beyond gives a pain filled start
The names that this world gifted to me-
I hope you find comfort in the coming days
Fret not, for those names will appear to you in many ways.
Know this wanderer-
The climb may be more than you expect yourself to take
Fear not the darkness
But do not allow your life to be what is at stake
Your journey is far from over,
If you keep going you will be sure to find
One that you will recognize in time.
Should you ever find yourself lost in the dark
Know that your fondest settles warmth in your heart.
Names you never knew before-
Will fill you with impossible drive to soar.
Banish the dark, or the light-
Know that you still have the ability and strength to fight.
And when you fear all hope is gone-
Press on and remember my song.
A Friend,
The Mute Bard.
(If selected I would like the Scarf of Wondrous Wit)
Message in a Bottle - You Can’t Spell Dragonbreath Falls without D-A-R-N T-O-A-D-S
Countless memories I have of my life in Eorzea I would put pen to paper on; nearly three summers’ worth, in fact. However, I feel moved to recount my tale of a foray into Dzemael Darkhold and how I inadvertently caused what should have been an otherwise mundane run to go horribly wrong by my own hand. A curious memory to choose above all else to be sure, but for one reason or another few stories bring a retrospective smile to my face like this one.
I was a fledgling adventurer then. We had entered Dragonbreath Falls in the Darkhold, the place you cannot spell without D-A-N-G-E-R on its sheer cliffs. I had known that the Bone Nixes – almost as if they had been strategically placed there on the cliffside – had a tendency to knock adventurers off with their Labored Leaps. I had no intention of being such an adventurer, until I discovered too late that my toe was caught in the line of attack. To make the situation even more damningly awkward, my back was not facing the wall.
I tumbled down the cliff and hit the bottom faster than I could shout out any sort of profanity. Above me, my party did not seem to notice my fall and were moving on ahead. As one of the two damage dealers in the group, I was absolutely unexpendable. I had to get back to them quickly.
I was only vaguely aware of the beasts along my path, and in my haste I neglected to remember that dungeon monsters worked differently from those in the overworld in that your very existence is so offensive to them that once they’ve begun to chase you, you could run to the ends of Hydaelyn and they will not relent until one of you is dead.
As I ducked into the cavern with my team members at long last in sight, I finally looked over my shoulder and realized that every last beast – along with their mothers – had followed me up. I turned back and attacked the other monsters my party was already fighting with a peculiar calm, as though ignoring the grisly fate quickly approaching us would make it all go away.
It did not.
I recall the last haunting words of our healer, wrought with so much terror that any and all punctuation was bereft in their tone…
”what the”
”where did all the enemies come from”
We were slaughtered as sheep before the wolf… Blessed with the Echo as we were however, death was but a fly to be brushed from our shoulders. The story is not without its happy ending of course, we cleared Dzemael of its ghastly denizens without further tragedy. My embarrassment over the incident long since passed, I look back on it and laugh knowing how far I’ve come since then. Though I likely will never see those people again, I can’t help but wonder if they remember and look back on it with a similar fondness?
(If my tale is worthy of a commendation, I would like the Ahriman Choker, which in its resemblance to the All-seeing eye makes a fitting commemoration of my (mis)adventure through the Darkhold.)
Reflections of a Retired Raid Leader
Morale is tricky, I mused, putting pen to paper. When leading others into battle, you need to find a balance between unwavering support and a relentless push to be better, to do better, in the heat of battle.
I paused, glancing at the quiet waters beyond the Lavender Beds. I could never take our home for granted, something we worked so hard to rebuild. Yet here I sat, on the bench where I was privileged to reflect on some of our greatest and most unbelievable adventures.
There are countless examples I could share, but one in particular comes to mind. Deep beneath Eorzean soil, some time after Bahamut ravaged the land, my friends and I were tasked with confronting the beast — which, thanks to the remnants of Allagan technology, was swiftly being reconstructed.
I knew this story was something I had been asked not to share, but with everything that has happened… I did not want our tale lost to the ages.
After defeating his gatekeepers, we finally found the Dreadwyrm's burning heart. Here, time seemed to stand still, while the power of the Echo allowed us to keep returning to the moment before engagement. Her blessing enabled us to retain all we had learned in our previous encounters, which proved to be an invaluable boon.
But… after several weeks of trial and error, we were all exhausted. And that’s when the regression set in.
"No; don’t do that," I shouted to the white mage in the back lines. Sure enough, he ran into one of Bahamut’s conjured aetherial energy orbs and immediately lost consciousness, leading to our inevitable fall. This was my breaking point.
"Don't be a hero," I growled through gritted teeth. "We need to share the responsibility; you are of no use to us dead!"
He looked down as he formulated his response. "I'm sorry, I—"
"No! No more apologies. No more excuses." I took a deep breath and sighed, looking over the rest of our team as we prepared for our next encounter. We were all frustrated — at ourselves, and at each other. I knew my next words would be important.
"We've been here for months. We’ve seen everything he has to offer. We all know what to do. All it takes is one perfect attempt. One perfect run of it. And we save Eorzea." Tired eyes met mine with hesitant determination. “Now let’s go.”
With that, the paladin rushed forward, and our trial began anew. What followed left me in awe. Even before I could announce what was coming next, our team sprung to action with exacting precision. When Bahamut finally fell, there was a moment of stunned silence, followed by cheers and relief.
The moral of this story, and any heroic tale, is that nothing of worth is ever accomplished alone. Beyond skill, strength and experience is an even more important trait: a belief in yourself, and a belief in your teammates. If you can inspire this, you can save the world.
I tossed my message-in-a-bottle to the water, hoping it would reach willing eyes.
(Prize choice: scarf.)
Best Friends, Now and Forever
“What is your favorite thing about being an adventurer?” The small Miqo’te child looked up at me like she was about to burst with excitement upon meeting the Warrior of Light.
I didn’t expect to be recognized by anyone while having lunch, but after spotting the wooden sword on the young girl’s hip it seemed one of the staff let it slip to her. From across the dining area I could see her mother watching nervously as if I might crush the girl's dreams. I smiled at the mother and said to the girl, “My favorite thing? It would be making new friends along the way.”
She smiled brighter and asked for more, “Like who?"
I hadn’t expected it but I said the first thing to come to mind, “I met my best friend once I started adventuring.”
“What is her name? What is she like? How did you meet her?” The little girl asked, the questions pouring out.
“What is your name?” I asked in return.
“Sihn.” She said quickly.
I chuckled and gestured to the chair next to me, “Well, Sihn, sit down and I will tell you.” She happily jumped on the seat and kept her eyes glued to me.
“Her name is Alorah and she is one of the kindest, bravest, souls I have ever known. She would do anything if it helped her friends.” I told her and continued, “Unfortunately, our meeting is not so interesting, but it is something I remember as clear as day.”
“I was already a skilled Bard and was in the city of Revenant’s Toll. A place of adventurers who are looking to make a name for themselves.” I told her.
“What were you doing there?” She asked.
I chuckled and said, “I was looking for gear because while I was skilled with a bow, my armor was lacking. Alorah approached me while I searched and upon first meeting, I felt as if I was with an old friend. She had seen I needed new armor and without a word gave me a new set of armor. I had just met her and she was worried for me like a sister. It was a sign that we were meant to meet.”
"Do you see each other often?" Sihn asked. I nodded and said, “Of course. Sometimes it has been hard, but we know through everything we love each other.”
Sihn smiled brightly and opened her mouth to speak, but across the way her mother was waving at her. The little girl nodded and quickly thanked me then said goodbye before running to her mother.
I smiled and reached into my pocket pulling out a small drawing of Alorah and I as I personally recalled our first meeting and everything we had gone through since then. She and I were bound together no matter what.
The waitress came up and spoke softly to me, "Are you ready to order, Ma'am?" I blinked and found myself back in reality where I smiled at the woman, “Not yet, I apologize. I am waiting for a friend.” The woman smiled and nodded, “I will come back then.”
“Thank you.” I said and she walked off. I looked down at the picture once more then folded it again. She would be here soon and I didn't want her to catch me being sappy.
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